

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 


Chap.'EZ.S Copyright No, 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 





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JOHN KING, MANAGEH. 





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A NOVEL 

BY 

EDMOND NOLCINI AND QRANT EMMONS. 

G.W. DILLINGHAM CO., PUBLISHERS, N. Y. 


Mrs. Mary J. Holmes Hovels 

Nearly TWO MILLIO N Sold. 

THE NEW BOOK. 

Mrs. Hallam’s.Gompanion. 

JXJSX OTJX. 


'As a writer of domestic stories which are extreuiely interesting 
without being extravagant, Mrs. Mary J. Holmes is unrivalled. 
Her chara^ers are true to life, many of them are quaint, 
and all arSso admirably delineated that their conducv 
and peculiarities make an enduring impression 
5 ' upon the reader’s memory.” 


The following is a list of Mary J. Holmes’ Novels : 


TEMPESt AND SUN= 
SHINE. 

ENGLISH ORPHANS. 
HOHESTEAD ON THE 

hillside. 

’LENA RIVERS. 
MEADOW BROOK. 
DORA DEANE. 

COUSIN MAUDE. 
HARIAN GREY; 

EDITH LYLE. 


DAISY THORNTON. 
CHATEAU D’OR. 
QUEENIE HETHER 
TON. 

DARKNESS AND 
DAYLIGHT. 

HUGH WORTHING- 
TON. 

CAMERON PRIDE. 
ROSE MATHER. 
GRETCHEN. 


ETHELYN’S MIS- 
TAKE. 
niLLBANK. 

EDNA BROWNING. 
WEST LAWN. 
niLDRED. 

FORREST HOUSE. 
HADELINE. 
CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
BESSIE’S FORTUNE. 
MARGUERITE. 


DR. HATHERN’S DAUGHTERS. MRS. HALLAJ’S COMPANION, (New.) 


All handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold e^’-erywhere. 
and sent by mail, postage free, on receipt of price ($1.50), by 


G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers, 

33 West 23d Street, Nw York. 





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DILLINGHAM’S AMERICAN AUTHORS LIBRARY, No. 27. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER, 


A STORY OF THE STAGE 


EDMOND NOLCINI AND GRANT EMMONS. 




NEW YORK: 

G, TV. Dillingham Co., Publishers 


MDCCCXCVII. 


Copyright, 1897, by 


EDMOND NOLCINI AND GRANT EMMONS. 


[Al/ rights reserved,^ 



John Kingy Manager, 


A STORY OF THE STAGE. 


QUOTATIONS FROM THE BOOK. 

“ Those wounds heal that men do give themselves.” 

“ Something ached in the desolate young heart, flung 
out to the world without a protecting arm, or any 
close, particular love ; the woman in her felt weak ; 
she longed for a moment to cast herself down, even 
as Doree had done, if, in the fall, she might find a 
broad bosom like a shield, and the true heart, like a 
citadel.” 

“ I will commence to build myself anew in answer 
to every desire of your sweet womanhood ; you are 
the one pure planet of my heart that has not set.” 

“ He was like a volcano clothed in snovr, one could 
never calculate the moment of the flood and the out- 
burst ; she would not be shielded and protected, she 
would be pushed and dominated ; she would be 
burned to a skeleton by that force of ardor which 
inspired and moved him on to the accomplishment 
of all his purposes, and then she would be cast out of 
his inner life, and floated away in the cold and 
mighty drift of his indifference.” 

“ Oh, Alice ! Alice! it is dark,” he sobbed, 
have erredy and strayed from thy ways'* 

[5} 



JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


CHAPTER I. 

When John King came into this world he was as a 
precious jewel, firmly fixed in the rich settings of an 
eminently respectable life. 

His mother, having descended in the Edwards line 
from an old puritanical stock, was a woman of un- 
bending principles and fanatical religious faith. 
When she was but fourteen years of age, she united 
with the orthodox church, where she remained a 
faithful member to the day of her death. 

She married, however, outside the congregation, 
John’s father being a Quaker, yet she had no cause 
to regret this action, although they could never quite 
agree upon matters of religion. 

Each quietly maintained his course without much 
comment upon the subject of their unutterable con- 
victions. 

Of the two, the husband proved the most amenable 
to reason whenever a discussion arose between them 
on the contested points of their particular beliefs. 

It accordingly happened that when their child came 
into the world, John King, Sr. surrendered the care 
of his soul to the mother with the dry comment, “ he 
may hearken entirely to thy counsel, Mary, and look 
jsoniewhat to my ways, in matters of religion ; for 


8 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


surely, if by following my ways he should escape 
Heaven, with thy voluble expounding of the Scrip- 
tures, he cannot justly get into Hell.” Half heartily 
she responded to the speech ? “ Nay, John, not if he 
listens well and heed what the good elders of our 
church have studied so deeply to discover ; but verily, 
none be so deaf as those that won’t hear.” 

The first great trial of John King’s life loomed upon 
him in that hour when he was taught to pray. His 
mother who undertook the task, after the nurse had 
reported her bad proceedings with the boy, came 
into his room one night, and lifting him from the 
crib, stood him on the floor before her. “ John,” she 
commanded somewhat sternly, “ get down at once 
upon your little knees.” John stuck his baby fingers 
between his lips and stood looking up into his mother’s 
face grieved and defiant. All measures were used to 
reduce the young rebel to holy submission, who first 
manifested his will and lack of reverence on this 
occasion. Finally, the most desperate remedy for 
a stubborn spirit was brought into requisition, 
namely, a wooden paddle, which was applied some- 
what vigorously to John’s bare back, horizontal. 
This had the effect of bringing a copious flood of 
tears which seemed to float the stumbling words 
through a perfect storm of sobs. 

“ Please Dod, bless Sally and the pig.” 

Sally was his nurse, and the pig, his entertainment 
three times a day, when Sally took him kindly out to 
the pen to see the animal fed. 

At ten, John was as much admired for his intelli- 
gence as the grace and spirit of his deportment, 
whenever he was permitted to see and to enter into 
conversation with the ladies and gentleman who vis- 
ited his father’s house. Although he was rather tall 
and slender for his age, he had thus early com- 
menced to develop a fullness of the chesty and n 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


9 


squareness of the shoulders, which, taken in connec- 
tion with the erectness of his carriage, gave a manly 
appearance to his boyish figure. 

His face was rather thin, with something in the 
keen, sharp glance of his gray-blue eyes, the breadth 
of his forehead, the varying expressions which 
flashed over his features, which suggested a play of 
lightning behind the summer clouds. 

He had a way when opposed, of dropping his head 
forward until his chin rested upon his bosom, when 
he would give the offender a long, slanting, sidewise 
look from beneath his frowning brows ; with his 
teeth set and his lips drawn into a hard line which 
spoke volumes for the defiance of his spirit and the 
firmness of his will. Fortunately for his success in 
life and the power that he manifested to shake and 
rule so many destinies beside his own, the heavy 
qualities of his nature were enlivened by a keen sense 
of humor, a quickness of repartee, and a kind, even 
affectionate disposition. 

At a very fearly age, John King, Jr. evinced such 
powers of mimicry that his parents, condemning all 
levity in the character of their son which might lead 
him to the godless representations of the stage, re- 
moved from his observation all suggestions of such a 
life. 

When John was but five years old, his nurse re- 
vealed to him one day a new world which lay beauti- 
fully bound in leather and gold upon the library 
shelves. From that day he gave her no peace until 
he was taken into the library every morning, where 
he insisted that the copies of the old books should be 
opened before him on a Turkish rug which covered 
the centre of the floor. Here he would lie for hours 
upon his stomach, entranced by their contents ; his 
little red-stockinged legs kicked up over his back, 
^nd waving to and fro like a couple of blapk-knobbed 


10 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


stamens thrust out of a furbelow of his white skirts 
and starched pinafore. With a face flushed and 
eager, and his chubby fingers grasping the stiff, yel- 
low pages, he would insist upon explanations as to 
why Juliet mourned and Satan fell. 

Sally spelled out the words slowly beneath the pic- 
tures, making such explanations as she thought 
proper, and soon the child could repeat by heart all 
that she had taught him. 

The power of analogy, which was very early de- 
veloped in John’s little head, led him to discover at 
length, in a small statuette that stood upon the lib- 
rary mantle, a reproduction of an engraving in one 
of the books. 

“ See, Sally,” he cried in hysterical childish glee, 
“ it’s ’Omeo on mamma’s shelf.” 

“ Why so it is,” declared the stupid Sally, who had 
never thought of it before, “ la ! how bright the young 
un’s gettin’ ; sure and he’ll be bustin’ his hid wid too 
much thinkin ! I must take the buks away from him. 
John,” she continued, “give the buks to Sally, like a 
little man ; you’re gettin’ too lamed for your age.” 

But John held on to the covers of the book with 
such determination that Sally, who feared she might 
tear the leaves, fell to expostulating. 

“Now Johnnie, like a little man, let Sally have the 
buk ; if you don’t you’ll get wather in your brain in- 
stid of sinse and grow foolish instid of wise ; then 
you’ll die, and go to Purgatory, most like ; or ye’ll 
sit in the corner all yer life, as Kate’s baby did ; a 
sucking yer little thumbs.” 

“ Gif me pictures on the shelf, Sally.” 

“ Holy smote ! that bes no picture at all, but a 
statute ; and it is not me that’ll be afther laying a 
finger on it for yes.” 

John got upon his feet in childish wrath ; he 
stamped upon the floor. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


II 


“ I will have it, Sally ; it’s iny Mamma’s ’omeo,” 
and, in an unguarded moment he lost his old posses- 
sions ; as Sally took this opportunity to seize the 
book and thrust it out of sight. In c/ontempt of 
these proceedings, with that quick readiness to see 
the point of advantage which never quite deserted 
him through all his later career, he climbed quickly 
into a chair that happened to stand beneath the 
mantel, and before Sally could prevent him, he had 
seized Romeo by one leg. Sally turning from the 
book case gave a scream ; John started fearfully 
backward, lost his balance, and the child and statue 
came down in a general crash, where the former 
aroused the household with his cries of rage, and pain, 
and the later, stately lovers, lay scattered in ruins 
about him, like a fatal prophecy of his life. 

At twelve John proved such an annoyance to the 
governess employed for home instruction, it was de- 
termined to send him to a private school kept by an 
orthodox clergyman by the name of Patterson. 

King’s parents having designed him for the minis- 
try, a profession which by nature he was the least 
qualified to fill, the rigid denial of the free exercise 
of his mind in channels that would have produced a 
healthy developement of its most noble faculties, was 
cramped by a denial of pleasure common to youth, 
and thus embittered by a solemn and bigoted educa- 
tion. 

They were not made of that malleable stuff which 
could be moulded by a boy’s will. The more way- 
ward his impulses, the more determined they became 
to fashion his mind by the unbending principles of 
religion into that solemn and holy character, befitting 
the profession to which they had unitedly dedicated 
him. 

He was accordingly sent to Mr. Patterson’s school, 
he being a man who added to his renown for piety 


12 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

the reputation of a strict disciplinarian. It thus hap- 
pened that, followed by his father’s counsel and his 
mother’s prayers and tears, John entered the Patter- 
son school at the age of thirteen. It was a journey 
of some fifty miles from the old homestead ; so that 
John was denied the pleasure of frequent home visits ; 
thus the first links which bound the boy to old ties 
and kindred, was early broken. That he might feel 
less lonely on the way, his father and mother accom- 
panied him the entire journey and so personally 
supervised his proper establishment in the school. 

John’s introduction to Mr. Patterson passed with 
no further comment than that he should receive a 
goodly and Godly education. With more tears on 
separating from his parents, who left him with 
many carefully considered admonitions as to what he 
should and should not do, John was put to bed in 
company with a plump little fellow of twelve, who 
began by staring at him with big, round blue eyes, 
and ended by making himself disgustingly familiar 
with all his possessions. 

The boys of the school when they met in the class- 
room, ranged from the ages of eleven to seventeen. 
John King made himself popular with the elder por- 
tion of the school, and became a sort of leader and 
director of the younger members of it. From first to 
last he was not a favorite with Mr. Patterson, who 
endeavored to treat the boy with justice, but ever 
manifested toward him a cold and dignified formality 
he believed to be necessary to hold in check a cer- 
tain freedom which strongly characterized his speech 
and manner. 

His keen appreciation of a practical joke, and the 
recklessness which led him to engage in any daring 
scheme, and contrived to upset the law and order of 
the school, soon brought him into bad repute in the 
^Stitpation of its master. Hence, it happened within 


JOHN KING, Managed. 13 

sixteen months, the secret antagonism of their natures 
was openly betrayed in a quarrel. 

The result of a stormy interview with his teacher 
was John’s arrival at home upon the following day. 

“John,” said his father seriously, after sorrowfully 
greeting the boy. “ Thy mother and I have been 
greatly concerned about thee ; as from several letters 
written by thy pious instructor, it appeareth thou hast 
carried thyself in a high and ungodly fashion at 
school.” 

Whereupon John commenced to pour his com- 
plaints into the sympathetic ears of his mother, ma- 
king so strong a case against Mr. Patterson that she 
conceived herself to be grossly insulted in the person 
of her son. 

“ Poor child,” she commenced, with an odd stiffening 
and whitening of her features, so observable in her son 
when struggling to repress an exhibition of strong 
excitement. 

“ Did you have no sauce upon the table, love, for 
tea ?” 

“Never fear, John, if thou art a trifle thin, a change 
of pasture maketh a fat calf ; and thou wilt at once 
be well sauced and goosed by thy mother’s kindly 
hand. Yet I would admonish thee that unless thou 
settest thy head upon some plan of life, thou wilt not, 
like a fragrant herb, bloom in the garden of thy 
mother’s heart, but grow as a poisonous nettle, bestow- 
ing upon all the woman’s anxious love the smart and 
sting of thy misbehavior. 

“ With thy mother’s consent, thou shalt have for 
two years the bent of thy will, unless it run to extra- 
vagance in living or lateness of hours or ungodly 
sports. At the end of such time, thou and I shall 
have some friendly talk together concerning thy 
future. There, lad ! thou hast nothing to frown about. 


14 John king, manageK. 

look up and give thine old father thy hand on the 
contract." 

John gave both hands to his father, his face light- 
ening into a sort of radiance, which eloquently pro- 
nounced his relief from expected rebuke, since the 
closing remarks had softened and atoned for the 
slight censure manifested at the commencement of 
the monologue. Rushing from his father, he seized 
his mother’s head in his arms, and hugged it tight 
against his shoulder, brushing his cheek caressingly 
against her yet bright auburn hair. 

“ And thou, mother ?’’ he queried, using, as he oc- 
casionally did, the grave quaker dialect. “ What say- 
est thou, dear, to my father’s promise ?’’ 

“ That I do not fully approve it," she managed to 
articulate with some difficulty, from the cause of her 
lips being muffled by their hard pressure against his 
shoulder. 

“ Let me go, John ;’’ she continued to gently strug- 
gle to extricate herself. But he held her as before, 
saying : “ Nay, nay, mother, listen to my heart, and 
answer me kindly, surely my father knows me better 
than thou dost, and is a wise man." 

“ Thou art a foolish lad," she managed to say, at 
length getting free of the embrace, and putting up 
her thin, ladylike hands to brush back her ruffled 
hair. 

“ To give you your liberty as thy father has just 
now done, is like letting a young colt out of the pas- 
ture. I cannot quarrel with thy father’s purpose, but 
be sure, John, that so long as thou remainest a child 
beneath my roof, for my own part I shall shirk no 
responsibility concerning you, because you are strong 
in the rein and hard on the bit." 

John King, Sr., rose from his chair, turning his back 
upon his wife as he walked to the window, where he 
struggled to subdue that inner disturbance of his feel- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


*5 


ings which in their lives together had occasionally 
arisen, when, in an instance like the present, he had 
to encounter the opposition of a dogmatic will. 

Mrs. King resumed her knitting ; the silence be- 
tween the three for a few seconds being broken only 
by the sharp clinking of her needles. Then John 
King, Sr., turned around with a sly twinkle of humor 
in his gray eyes. 

“Well, Mary!” he smiled pleasantly, “if thou and 
the boy have settled it between thee, I will leave you 
to fight it out together.” 


CHAPTER II. 

During the two years while John remained home 
on probation, he made some progress in the study of 
literature, and displayed such aptitude in scribbling 
that his father was led to believe his son might enter 
with some credit upon a literary career. 

It is so easy while sitting sheltered by the home fire- 
side to imagine what one can. do, or what^one’s children 
may do or become out in the great world. Perhaps it is 
well that the aspirant for worldly place and distinc- 
tions sees the successes but not the risk to be incurred 
when entering upon any line of life beset with com- 
petition, and requiring great experience in all its de- 
tails to bring the individual to any degree of prom- 
inence. 

However, John scribbled with a mind set toward 
journalism. His work displayed the practical bent of 
his intellect and so related to history, science, recent 
discoveries and current events. The library became 
inundated with sheets of reasons why archaeology and 


i6 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


geology had not established in fact the beginning of 
man : Or why the currency question must continue 
to be a troublesome problem until some new financial 
system" should be discovered to regulate it according 
to the supply and demand. Most of the stuff he wrote 
was worthless, but the scales were before the eyes of 
the ambitious logician and his enamored parents. 
He was by the end of the second year grown to the 
full stature of a man, having developed the bass note 
in his voice, and a shade of down was just appearing 
upon his upper lip, and the smooth peachy sides of his 
fair face. 

He was what his boyhood promised, exceedingly 
good looking in person and rather frank and winning 
in his manners. As he grew older, however, he man- 
ifested a little less humor and more dignity in his be- 
havior. At this period of his life, his character 
seemed to have developed that steadiness which made 
him appear a very promising young man. 

It was June, the library windows were open, and 
Mrs. King with her maid in tow, each armed with 
brooms and dust brush, with their heads tightly band- 
aged in aprons, marched through the house searching 
for the invisible speck. . . John came in from the 

garden with a bunch of Baltimore Belles in his hand, 
that he proceeded to arrange in a green vase that 
decorated one corner of the mantlepiece. It was not 
sufficiently satisfactory to his artistic sense that they 
were roses whose fragrance filled the room, he stood-, 
pulling up one stem and thrusting down another so as 
to make the most harmonious display of their beauty, 
when his father entered the room where he stood 
some moments watching his son’s manoeuvres. 

“ Thou hast something of the woman in thee, lad," 
he'finally remarked. 

“ It is not a bad element, is it, father ?" responds 
the son. Without heeding the question he proceedea 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. i; 

to deliver himself of the matter uppermost in his 
thoughts. 

“ I have something to tell thee that may please 
thee, my boy.” 

John turned about looking earnestly in his father’s 
face. 

“ I have written my cousin, Alice Beecham, concern- 
ing thee ; she is accounted, I believe, to have some art 
with her pen, and I thought perhaps she might put 
thee in the way of thy desires.” 

“Thank you, sir,” responded John warmly, “you 
could have done nothing that would suit me better.” 

“ Come here, lad, and sit down ; we will talk it over 
between us and then refer it to thy mother, who at 
last being satisfied that thou dost not care to preach, 
may be willing to see thee embarked in some other 
honorable and prosperous career.” 

“ Thy cousin Alice,” continued the old gentleman^ 
when they were seated together, “is a young woman 
of exceptional character and assured position as the 
wife of a prosperous Boston banker. Her home and 
influence will afford some privileges which could not 
otherwise be obtained ; and she has, upon the strength 
of my correspondence and some of thy work which I 
filched to send her, John, already signified her inter- 
est so far as to get the engagement upon a small 
magazine.” 

“ It is excellent, sir !” responded John, with such 
enthusiasm as to leave no doubt in his father’s mind 
regarding the satisfaction this news gave him. 

John King, eager to rush in upon so inviting a pros- 
pect as the present opportunity promised, set out im- 
mediately for his cousin’s house in Boston, where he 
arrived in due time at the station and was safely 
delivered by the cabman at the door of the imposing 

echam mansion on Beacon Street. 

He was told by Mrs. Beecham’s servants that the 


John king, manager. 


i§ 

lady of the house was out but would presently return, 
whereupon he was ceremoniously ushered into the 
magnificent mansion of the Beecham’s. 

John felt immediately impressed by new surround- 
ings which so greatly contrasted in its display of 
wealth with the appeapance of quiet grandeur in 
which he had been bred. 

The windows were curtained with costly satin, 
behind which floated the gaudy texture of the most 
delicate lace. 

There was in the carpets and furniture an almost 
gorgeous effect of blue and gold, which extended to 
the arch doorways of the music room and library. 
John, who had never seen his father’s cousin Alice, 
formed a very imposing idea of the mistress of such 
a mansion. He imagined that he must offer her some 
very grave and elaborate account of his appearance in 
her house before he was expected. 

He seated himself somewhat gingerly in the springy 
depths of one of the chair to await her arrival. As he 
sat thinking he began to speak the words softly, that 
he might hear how they would impress a listener. 

He had about concluded the form of his reception 
speech, when a folding door was pushed open behind 
him, and a low browed madonna faced woman stood 
in the entrance, which evidently opened from this 
room into the conservatory, as her black robed 
figure and the ivory whiteness of her face and hands 
seemed cut out out sharply against the green back- 
ground of growing shrubs and flowers. 

“ This is ?” she inquired with deliberate speech, 
and clear cut musical cadence. 

“ John King, madam ; Mrs. Beecham’s cousin,” he 
replied rising, and blushing as he bowed himself 
before her. 

“ I am Mrs. Beecham,” she answered. “You must 
pardon my unavoidable neglect of you. Cousin John, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


19 


I really had an important engagement, that could not 
be very well postponed ; and then, my poor lad, I 
have had the bad grace to forget the hour of your 
arrival : but if I can be pardoned, I will endeavor to 
atone in the future for my short comings in point of 
cousinly favors. Please be seated, John. I have a 
friend in the conservatory to whom I would like to 
introduce you directly.” 

As she made this statement she sat down, taking 
care to arrange her skirts properly, indicating at the 
same time by a wave of her hand a corner of the 
satin tete-^-tete, which he should occupy at her side. 

John, who had ever been dominant in all previous 
situations, now encountered a very oppressive air of 
culture and refinement in the person of his beautiful 
cousin, that rendered him at once self conscious and 
so awkward ; he tripped against a jardiniere which 
happened to be standing near the tete-a-tete, as he 
attempted to seat himself upon it. 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Beecham, I feel like 
a clown,” he blurted out frankly, blushing more furi- 
ously than before. 

“ Don’t begin the acquaintance by abusing your- 
self ; I assure you I am prepared to pardon much in 
a young man toward whom I have the most cousinly 
intentions to be kind.” 

This speech delivered in a tone of light banter, was 
far from reinstating John, who had fallen for the first 
time in his own estimation, and was greatly distressed 
to find himself so ruled and disconcerted by a person 
who was scarcely more than a stranger, although con- 
nected by ties of blood and bound to him by promises 
of friendship. Conscious that she was regarding him 
somewhat quizzically ; he had no doubt that she 
thought him a “ cad,” with whom she would be exceed- 
ingly bored. The reflection only served to increase 
his confusion. Alice Beecham, without appearing to 


20 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

notice how her presence affected him, began to make 
kind inquiries concerning his father and mother and 
the manner of his life at home. Two things made a 
lasting impression upon John’s imaginative mind at 
this first interview. For a long time they were the 
significant emblems of her life. They were the 
^heavy jet cross suspended upon her bosom by a nar- 
row guard of black velvet, and a white ascension lily 
lying in her lap, looking as if it were engraved against 
the blackground of her dress, the green stem 
lightly resting in fingers almost as delicate as the 
waxy petals of the flower. 

Quite frequently, as she talked with him, she would 
turn her face toward the conservatory, as if anticipat- 
ing the appearance in the drawing room of some per- 
son or persons whom they could plainly hear moving 
about among the plants. All at once two men came 
into the line of vision ; the low murmur of their voices 
shaped into audible speech caused John to turn in- 
stinctively toward them. One of them was a gentle- 
man of Mrs, Beecham’s age; he was evidently engaged 
in discussing the qualities of some plant he held in his 
hand with the other, who looked like a gardener, 
when catching the inviting look of his hostess, he 
smilingly nodded to his companion and entered the 
room. Mrs. Beecham arose. John followed her ex- 
ample. 

“ John King,” she said, fixing her eyes intently upon 
the face of the gentleman as he approached them ; 
“ this is pur rector, Mr. Astor.” 

For the first time in his life, John King felt the 
presence of great and godlike virtue in a man. He 
perceived in this man such an assemblage of rare 
quali ties impressed upon the clear cut and clean-shaven 
features that he could not well describe them ; but 
there seemed to emanate from the rector’s strong, 
quiet face, a beauty which transformed his firm lips 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


21 


into lines of light when he smiled. There was some- 
thing magnetic and gentle in his greeting of the 
young man, whose hand he grasped warmly in his 
own, searching his face with tender inquiry. 

** It is my cousin, Mr. Astor,” explained Mrs. 
Beecham, speaking of John, but still looking at the 
rector. 

‘‘ Ah ! I am happy to make the young man’s ac- 
quaintance,” then turning toward her, but still retain- 
ing his warm hold of John’s hand, ‘‘does he belong 
to us, Mrs. Beecham ?” he inquired. 

“ Well, well, John,” smiled Mrs. Beecham, in half 
serious reproof, as she resumed her seat, “ what shall 
I offer in defense of your father’s quaker methods of 
sitting in the house of worship in silence ; or your 
mother’s, your dear, good mother’s, habit of praying 
on her feet ?” 

Somehow John could not, little as he sympathized 
with it, bear the slightest fling of sarcasm at his moth- 
er’s faith. He bridled a little in a boyish way. 

“ Mrs. Beecham, I have not studied these things too 
deeply I will allow, but my mother relies upon St. 
Paul, I believe, who does not accept the public pray- 
ers of woman.” 

Alice Beecham dropped her white eyelids. So that 
their black lashes swept the pale oval of her cheek. 
“ My St. Paul has taught me to pray,” she replied in 
a low, sweet voice. A moment of silence fell between 
them, during which the rector sat gazing out of the 
opposite window, grave and thoughtful. 

After this day, John’s life was for sixteen months 
like a long, sweet, tormenting dream. Introduced by 
Alice Beecham into the broad arena of a new exist, 
ence, where superficial refinement had the effect of 
polishing his manner, and intellectual culture of 
broadening and deepening his powers of reflection 
3,nd analysis, he saw the goal ahead and entered the 


22 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


race ; but the object he ran for was beyond pursuit ; 
it lived in a boy’s dream of all human perfection as 
embodied in the person and character of his cousin 
Alice. From his earliest years, John had associated 
the impulses of affection with all that was ennobling 
in nature ; the tender, self-sacrificing love of his 
^father and mother, as manifested toward each other, 
and their combined efforts in furthering his own in- 
terests was a sort of a model upon which he erected 
his sense of attachment to others. To him Alice 
Beecham became that sweet, impossible ideal, to whom 
he dared not raise his eyes too boldly, although his soul 
was ever in a flame whose burning incense was 
fanned by the white \yings of her affable presence in 
his thoughts. Day and night, night and day, in his 
dreams even, she visited him. 

He worked very hard during the week and walked 
to church with Mrs. Beecham on Sunday. Here, 
from the beautiful Episcopal service, he received the 
strongest religious impressions of his life. He be- 
lieved he had arrived at that point where his heart 
was offered in humble adoration to Almighty God, 
who alone can order the affections and govern the 
wills of unruly men. - Instead, it was the sensuous 
magnificence and imposing church and church ser- 
vice that impressed him, the alluring and devotional 
nature of a woman he worshiped. 

The hot blood would leap from his heart to his 
face, surging over it from brow to chin as he felt the 
thrilling touch of her hand upon his shoulder, the 
sweet scent of her warm breath upon his cheek, as 
she leaned gently forward to direct his attention to 
the prayers and responses they were to utter together. 
His religion, instead of presenting an abstract deity, 
represented nothing higher for his contemplation 
than the kneeling figure of the woman at his side, 
with her black robes trailing about her and her 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


23 


saintly face bent upon her bosom. It was a holy 
picture shrined in the rich, warm shadows of the great 
church, he could never efface from memory. The 
sound of the fair penitent’s voice in meek confession 
uttering the lines — 

“ We have erred and strayed from thy ways.” 

What was it in her voice that always so strongly 
affected him as she uttered these words : 

“ We have erred and strayed from thy ways.” It 
seemed that the very spirit of repentance found ex- 
pression in the sweet, pathetic intonation of the syl- 
lables falling from lips, whose sacred office was to heal, 
to bless, to soothe rather than to jnake passionate con- 
fessions to Heaven of sins and weaknesses which 
could not find any correspondence in her life and 
thought. 

Inadvertently his eyes were attracted from the 
page, to covertly watch the motion of her lips, as he 
repeated the service after her, assuming the very ex- 
pression of her face in unconscious sympathy ; feel- 
ing his full emotional nature stirred by the strongest 
religious sentiments, provoked by her poses as the 
central figure of all the grand and imposing scene 
that surrounded them. It was to her he looked for 
example, rather than to the God whom they both 
addressed ; to her he listened more attentively than 
to the rector. She typified the religion she professed, 
and standing between him and his God, he simply 
struggled after her to reach the heights of self 
abnegation and devotion he supposed she had at- 
tained. 

It did not surprise John to observe that AHcq 
Beecham’s husband regarded her with a sort of ven- 
eration that bordered upon coldness and fear. When- 
ever John saw them together he could only liken her 
to some delicate lily denied the companionship of its 
kind, stripped of foliage, and pinned to a rough 


24 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


granite block. Mr. Beecham was a shrewd, practical 
business man, with a touch of coarseness in his nature. 
It was evident that he was too much absorbed in the 
business concerns of life to enjoy his wife’s excessive 
refinement and exalted religious fancies. He was 
something of a horse jockey, club man, and fashion- 
able gambler ; that is, he dealt largely in stocks. He 
was but little seen in his own house, and when there 
often seemed like an awkward boy uncomfortably 
impressed by foreign surroundings. 

“Go it, my lad ! I am glad that Alice has a companion 
to take her to and from prayers ; for myself, it is all 
too damned starched.” He had once made this con- 
fession to John, at a time when he happened to 
have his speech limbered by free potations of wine ; 
but whatever his deficiencies of life and character 
might be, he was proud of his wife, whom he left to 
maintain the glory of their social position and to 
settle his account with Heaven. He paid her richly 
in money and all the pleasures, purchased of his hard 
experience with the world, for the tribute of her grace- 
ful petitions at the throne of Heaven in his behalf. It 
happened that she became a good deal identified with 
the rector in his work, and they were much in each 
other’s society, conning over the problems of various 
charities that she undertook to carry out as his faith- 
ful militant. After a time John thought he detected 
the same emotions in operation in the yonng rector’s 
mind as disturbed his own quiet. A tremulous hes- 
itancy of speech ; a feverish flush or burning of the 
cheeks whenever he entered Mrs. Beecham’s pres- 
ence ; not as a bashful boy, but like a cautious man 
who is surprised by the mad rush of rebellious im- 
pulses over which he draws the steady rein of his 
determined will. 

There were times when John saw them together, 
that he could but reinark bow qold and formal was 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


25 


the rector’s speech and bearing toward his charming 
friend and hostess. Still further it became evident 
to John, that in proportion as the rector manifested 
chilling reserve, Alice Beecham sacrificed somewhat 
the air of distance, and dignity natural to her, in 
order to maintain the losing ground which might 
keep her before his eyes as a mark of favor and attrac- 
tion. She would find some excuse in their work to- 
gether, which would bind his attention more closely 
to herself. She suddenly became helpless in matters 
of particular importance relating to her work, that 
required private tete-d-tetes, and a detailed analysis of 
the subject of their labor. Even when she passively 
took her orders, she was ever a sweet and winning 
woman ; but when she thus exerted herself to please, 
bringing as she did an infinite variety of qualities 
into play in the expression of her features and the 
charming grace of her attitudes, she became a mad- 
dening and tantalizing object to the susceptible 
fancy of a young man. 

Slowly his altered views of her character began to 
see her as ambitious for place and power ; he also 
began to suspect that to Mrs. Beecham the rector was 
like a winning card in an important game ; she must 
hold him at any cost as a trump to be played for her 
own vain glory. It is true it required a sharp eye 
and clever wits to discover that the set of this proud 
woman’s head displayed any passion for supremacy ; 
suggesting rather as it did in its poise the grace of 
humility. If she rejoiced to find herself exceptional 
and the centre of attraction, as she generally was, she 
was too thoroughbred to make the fact evident to 
aught but that jealous attention which John King 
bestowed upon every movement of her graceful body, 
every expression of her mobile features. To him 
she was unapproachable he knew, upon any except 
the loftiest side of her character, and that she could be 


26 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


anything more or less to any other man rendered him 
furious. If, which he did not quite believe, she con- 
cealed beneath her ambition a secret thirst for adven- 
ture, he knew her refined instincts would not permit 
her to go into clogs to travel in forbidden paths, but 
that she would considerately ‘ pick her way in satin 
slippers.’ With suspicion his impassive and beauti- 
ful ideal became passionate flesh at his feet. Still she 
looked upon him with such reproachful majesty in 
her strong, incorruptible womanhood, he dared not 
stoop to touch his lips to the object of his desire. 
After all he could not damn her on suspicion, neither 
could he wholly submit his judgment to the glamour 
of the old faith. Thus tormented by her image in an 
insecure position, his nights were blasted by fever- 
ish dreams, his days clouded with rebellious thoughts 
concerning her. There were times when he struggled 
to free his mind from its enslavement to these thoughts 
so fraught with misery, and to consider more entirely 
the hopes and ambitions of his future life. Although 
he had been but sixteen months engaged in journal- 
istic work, Mrs. Beecham’s social position had brought 
him into connection with many gifted and influential 
persons, who had kindly put out their hands to help 
the young man to the front. John’s mind was always 
of that practical and analytical character which en- 
abled him to grasp and to comprehend intricate pro- 
blems ; not of that higher order which deals with 
philosophy and religion ; but he had a long, shrewd, 
managing business faculty, which led him into gen- 
eral criticism. In the office of a critic his theatrical 
reviews soon attracted so much attention that he was 
finally offered a leading position on the journal, where 
he was employed to devote his entire attention to the 
theatre and concert work. This familiarity with the 
stage led him to often consider his ability as a man- 
ager of some successful company. When his mind 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


27 


became distracted with the affairs of his heart, he be- 
gan to wonder if it would not be better to break the 
bonds of so hopeless a claim, and to throw himself 
soul and body into the excitement of a more adven- 
turous life. 

At length he commenced to realize that the loss of 
sleep and appetite in connection with the hard strain 
tension of an unceasing thought, was beginning to 
tell upon his strength and appearance. His eyes 
looked out of dark hollows and his cheeks were grow- 
ing pale and thin. The mustache had thickened and 
grown upon his upper lip, and his brow had re- 
scinded the fair promise of peace in the first lines of 
care traced across it. John King, with a more pro- 
nounced air of self-assurance and somewhat graver 
in manner, looked into the mirror one morning, to 
realize for the first time that something had gone 
out of his life forever : He was no longer a boy. 
About this time he received an invitation to go to 
New York, where he was offered a position on one 
of the great dailies, with an increase of salary. As 
had been his previous custom, his first impulse was 
to rush home and communicate the news to Mrs. 
Beecham, who had all along been like a star in the 
dark to lead him on to conquest. He sat at his desk 
in the office, holding the letter for some time in his 
hand, while engaged in speculating upon her possible 
opinion. Would she counsel him to go or to stay ? 
Here was an opportunity which might not come 
again. She would see it, undoubtedly, and counsel 
him to go. He had no power to tear himself from 
the luxury of her house and presence. The thought 
even of absence from one yrho seemed the insepar- 
able good of his life, made him desperate. With his 
usual decision, he threw his letter in the waste-bas- 
ket, and politely declined the offer by the next 
mail. 


28 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


In the meantime it was reported that Mr. Astor 
was about to resign his pastorate of his church and 
take orders in England. John took occasion to ques- 
tion Mrs. Beecham concerning the truth of this re- 
port, while sitting at the breakfast table one morn- 
ing. 

“Mrs. Beecham, have you heard anything about 
the rector’s leaving us to take new orders ? I sup- 
pose of course you have.” Although John attempted 
to speak casually, the strong excitement of hope and 
curiosity made itself so apparent in this query, it at- 
tracted Mr. Beecham’s attention. He could but no- 
tice that the young man, wholly disregarding his 
presence, was staring almost fiercely across the table 
as he waited for his answer with ill-concealed impa- 
tience. John alone, however, marked a change of 
color in Mrs. Beecham’s face as she glanced up to 
meet his inquisitorial meaning, with no apparent 
recognition of the stormy passions brooding in the 
young man’s breast. 

“ I have heard so,” she replied, without a change 
of the sweet composure of her face. 

“John, you asked the question tragically,” sneered 
Mr. Beecham. “ Are you interested in Mr. Astor so 
much, or do you suspect that Alice is ?” 

The lance he had thrust at her vulnerable spot had 
recoiled to his own injury. 

“ I am not quite well, I believe,” he rejoined 
quickly, as he fixed his baffled gaze upon his plate. 

“Sick people are generally tragic or foolish.” 

Alice Beecham leaned across the table with that 
intent meaning in her eyes he could feel even when 
he was not looking at her. 

“You do look miserable, John, and you slight the 
offerings of the table ; we must look into this matter 
of your not eating or sleeping, to discover the cause 
of it.” 


John king, MANAGEit. 


^9 


How did she know he did not sleep ? He had 
never told her ; he believed that she was well in- 
formed about the whole matter, that she had intended 
it from the first, that her subtle coquetry was like 
the beauty of some poisonous flower, attractive to 
the eye, alluring to the senses, but endowed with the 
power to inoculate with poison the veins of all those 
who dared to approach it too near. His nerves were 
upon the surface this morning, and so had been hit 
all around by Mr. Beecham’s scathing speech. 

“Oh, I am well enough,” .was his paradoxical re- 
mark, as he arose from the table. “ But I have some 
extra work which requires my early attention at the 
office. Will you please excuse me ?” With his watch 
in his hand he passed out of the room, having deliv- 
ered this excuse with lips too nervous to shape the 
syllables correctly. He knew that Mr. Beecham 
would soon follow him. Hoping to get another word 
in private with Mrs. Beecham, he stepped into a little 
cloak-room upon the opposite side of the hall where 
he stood, impatiently awaiting his departure. Very 
soon he came into the hall talking to his wife in un- 
guarded tone, supposing, as they both did, that John 
had left the house. 

“Don‘t you think it would be well, Alice, to allow 
John King to change his location ?” 

As Mr. Beecham asked this question they stopped 
before the cloak stand near the door where John was 
standing within the room. Although Mrs. Beecham 
could not have been so obtuse as not to see and to 
comprehend what went on in John’s mind concerning 
her, she affected to disregard its significance. 

“Why, Henry, what do you mean ? Has the boy 
done anything to offend you she inquired, with an 
expression of surprise in the deliberate, clear-cut in- 
tonations of her voice. 

“ No, not to displease me,” he replied, with marked 


JOHN KING, manager. 


emphasis. “ I am speaking for John’s sake, Alice ; he 
is no longer a boy, and it is quite apparent to me 
that he is in love with you.” 

A pale flush of anger stole into her cheeks, as she 
raised her head a little higher, looking at him more 
steadily and sternly. 

“ It is rather late, Henry, for you to manifest dis- 
trust of my conduct with young men. I have, hither- 
to, been left quite to my own course in life, and I do 
not think it has ever called for rebuke or reflected 
disgrace upon your name or house besides you 
should remember this boy is my cousin and ten years 
my junior,” 

Henry Beecham was sensible to the implied censure 
he received ; he could not bear such words from the 
lips of a woman whom he revered and respected more 
than he loved and protected. 

“ Oh, well,” he laughed with an uneasy glance, “ do 
as you like with your kid ; here, give me a lift with 
the arm of this coat.” She commenced to assist him 
as he desired, and, when, by his “ tugging ” and her 
“ hauling ” they had gotten him comfortably settled 
in his outer garment, he turned with a careless 
“ Thank you, my dear,” dropping a hurried kiss upon 
her lips and left the house. . 

For a moment after her husband’s departure, Alice 
Beecham stood as he had left her, with her chin and 
her upper lip pressed meditatively between her thumb 
and forefinger. John, who had been an unintentional 
listener to this interesting dialogue, was still strug- 
gling to gain that power of self-command which 
would enable him to speak to her with some show of 
composure. From his position in the cloak-room he 
could see the pale, classical profile shaded by the 
heavy masses of blue-black hair, and the lips thus 
compressed, like a thread of scarlet, somewhat scorn- 
fully drawn between the sharp outlines of her brow 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 3I 

and curving chin. What was she thinking as she 
stood there ? God knows she looked a little cruel in 
this new attitude of retrospection. At length at- 
tracted by some subtle force emanating from the in- 
tensity of his thought, she looked over her shoulder 
and discovered him like a concealed foe spying the 
outworks of her intrenchments. She was but little 
pleased with this discovery, and betrayed it in the 
look of reproof and tone of annoyance manifested in 
her inquiry. 

“Why, I thought you had gone out, John; how 
long have you been here !” 

He came out slowly ; his limbs trembling as though 
struck by the chill of an ice-box ; his eyes like the 
blue heavens in a drought when there is a hot film of 
gray atmosphere under the sun ; the rest of his fea- 
tures looked white and cold. 

“ Only a few minutes, Alice. I hope you will un- 
derstand I did not wish to listen, but having heard I 
must say that Mr. Beecham is right ; I am no longer 
a boy.” 

He was standing quite close to her, and the great 
hunger of his face warned her of the truth of his 
words. She remembered that the strong, hot blood 
of the Kings, which was wont to rise in a flood and 
beat with decision, flowed in his veins. 

She stepped back toward the stairs raising her 
hands and holding them palms outward as if to ward 
off some impending catastrophe, looking at him with 
play of sarcastic humor accompanying her words of 
rebuke. 

“ John ! John ! for Heaven’s sake, dear boy, do not 
get up a King tragedy.” 

She commenced ascending the stairs as she spoke, 
with an air of being grieved or offended. 

The mad boy followed her as far as the foot of 
them, where he stood watching her departure, until 


32 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


the graceful outline of her haughty head and black 
robed figure was concealed by a turn in the upper 
hall. Then with a sense of humiliation wounding his 
pride and affections, he flung himself passionately out 
of the house. The storm within him had reached a 
climax ; the rebels of his bosom had escaped all law 
of regular action ; dangerous emotions plunged into 
the current of his hot blood and ran rampant through 
his veins. He was so utterly wretched that he tried 
to get up reactionary thoughts and feelings, as a sort 
of panacea to sooth an insatiable longing for some- 
thing that touched and tantalized him almost to mad- 
ness. His mind seemed to recoil of itself from its 
own sharp shocks on the side of intensity, and the 
struggle to reach some cool middle ground reflection 
upon such episodes as had made their first impres- 
sions in the plastic mould of his boyish fancy and 
affection. He contemplated the picture memory 
offered for his inspection of the old fashioned man- 
sion with its spacious grounds yielding to its pos- 
sessors so much that was sweet and useful to their 
daily needs. He saw his mother’s quiet, dignified 
figure moving about the house in attendance upon her 
daily duties, in connection with the maid ; and his 
father’s substantial gray clothed figure in the garden. 
For the first time in sixteen months he was home- 
sick. He took the car a block away from the house 
to ride down town. Upon arriving at the office, he 
endeavored to fix his thoughts upon the necessary 
labors of the day. He wrote for two or three hours and 
then sat staring at the copy which was being urgently 
called for. He was disgusted with the effort he had 
made to force his thoughts into practical channels of 
work. 

“ It is better I lose my position on good credit, than 
I should damn myself in the estimation of the whole 
staff, as a fool !” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


33 


He tore tip the copy, flinging it into the waste 
basket, and sent tip word that he was too ill to-day to 
think clearly, upon which he left his room before 
objection could be made to his departure. As he 
descended the stairs of the editorial rooms, he met a 
little school of reporters sailing into port with their 
wares in their pockets. 

“ Hello, King,” they cried, in a jovial way. “ What’s 
the matter ?” one more observing than the others, 
inquired. “ Are you sick or in trouble ? You look 
confounded white. 

“Strange !” was his laconic reply. “ I feel black,” 
and so he passed on through the office into the street. 

It was near noon, yet the day was cool with a 
breath of spring in the air. He stepped into a res- 
taurant, but could not eat ; he went out again, walk- 
ing on aimlessly, suffering from an empty stomach, 
and a full head aching beneath his hat. All this time 
be was well aware with a sort of a sub-consciousness 
that the battle driving' him to frenzy was not to 
reveal and subdue, but rather to conceal the real 
enemy of his peace ; an angel impulse of his soul 
upon which he had fixed the flaming mask of a devil 
to blister his conscience ; an emotion which he 
associated with a nameless sin. That it existed was 
a mortification to his sense of what was manly and 
true in his estimation of his friend, arising as it did 
from an almost groundless suspicion that it was possi- 
ble Paul Astor had provoked an impulse of passion 
in the white bosom of his fair cousin. 

“ My God !” at length he cried aloud, out of the 
depths of his wretchedness, “ how have I dared to 
think of her so ? She is what I have believed her to 
be ; if she is not, no woman ever was, ever can be. 
I have no word, no act of hers on which to condemn 
her ; her sweet Christian virtue has set her white 
womanhood beyond the pale of such desires. It is 


34 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


true that I worship her, and because she is a woman 
it has wrought madness in me. It is the fatal curse 
of being a man, I suppose, but she, our black-robed, 
pale-faced saint, with the thought of God in her 
heart and the cross of Christ upon her bosom, is like 
one of her own ascension lilies, unblemished by a 
touch of the world. Even her clod of a husband feels 
the loftiness of the character I have dared to profane. 

I — John King : — It is not her fault that she has un- 
consciously called into secret expression an attribute 
of my nature with which it must always have been 
largely endowed. She did not create me ; she has 
simply wrought upon one string of my being until it is 
all out of tune. I am as I am, unworthy ; she is as she 
is, gentle, pure, and holy. How could such a woman 
understand such a man as I have become. She would 
despise me, pah ! I despise myself.” Ten o’clock 
brought him to this conclusion and the door of their 
residence. 

It was his custom to attend the theatre on this 
evening, so that not being expected home, he sought 
to get into the house quietly. Opening the vestibule 
door with his latch key, he stepped cautiously inside 
and closed it behind him. 

At the foot of the stairs a dim light was burning. 
The gilded jets running up by the carved post of the 
balustrade, was supported by the gauntleted hand of 
a bronze statuette of Sir Charles Vane. 

Sir Charles would be on duty late to-night, as 
torch-bearer to the expected lord of the Beecham 
mansion. It was one of his club nights. 

■V^ith a little care taking spirit, he looked up at the 
tiny flame enclosed in the pink globe over Sir Charles’s 
cavalier hat, and turned the button a trifle lower. 
He did this mechanically, after which he began to 
pick his way upstairs ; the soft, rich carpets deaden- 


JOHN' KING, MANAGER. 35 

Ingf the sound of his footfalls. When he had reached 
the third step, he stopped. 

Thinking he would like to have a talk with Mr. 
Beecham when he should come in, if he was not too 
drunk to be intelligent, he retraced his steps, and en- 
tered the imposing drawing-room, all blue and gold, 
with the spacious magnificence of the library and 
music-room opening into it by an extension of arched 
doorways ; and the conservatory on the other side 
closed by folding doors. To his surprise, he found a 
dim light burning in one of the chandeliers of the 
drawing-room and the conservatory door was slightly 
ajar. It was not, however, so marked a circumstance 
that a light should be found burning in the lower 
part of the house as to arouse any suspicion, but* it 
made the place seem inviting. He seated himself for 
a few moments in one of the great, springy, velvet 
chairs, with his eyes fixed upon the open door of the 
conservatory ; he thus sat, thinking of the first time 
he had seen Alice Beecham standing against the 
green background of the shrubs and flowers, with the 
black cross upon her bosom, and the white lilies in 
her hand. An irresistible force drew him to the spot. 
When he had reached the entrance, the umbrageous 
green bordering the long walks, the fantastic shadows 
of the moon shining through the glass and the rich 
odor of the flowers tempted him to step within the 
room. He had noticed a bunch of ascension lilies 
standing in a Venetian glass upon one of the draw- 
ing-room tables. They contained such suggestions 
of the person who had placed them there he felt im- 
pelled to take the whole bunch and -crush them 
against his hot lips, only to-night it seemed impossible 
to defile with his touch anything that the hand of 
Alice Beecham had made sacred. He would go into 
the conservatory and take one if it grew there for 
him, which he might keep as a memento 'of these 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


36 

days when he should go away. He had just reached 
this point of romantic revery, when his ear was sur- 
prised by the low laugh of a woman, accompanied by 
the graver notes of a man’s voice. He turned back, 
leaning against the inside of the half-open door. He 
was astounded by the sight of Paul Astor and Alice 
Beecham entering the drawing-room together, where 
they seated themselves in such a position, that he 
could both see and listen to all that passed between 
them. 

Petrified with astonishment, and enraged as he was 
by what the scene suggested, the instincts of a gentle- 
man would have forced him to reveal himself, had 
not the honorable intentions been given the last con- 
straint of angry curiosity by her words. In the first 
place the jealous eyes of the listener took notice of 
the fact, that Mrs. Beecham had discarded her cus- 
tomary habit of black, and was wearing to-night a 
white trailing gown, a sort of a negligee affair, which 
was exceedingly becoming, intensifying, as it did, the 
darkness of her hair and eyes and adding a marked 
significance to the black band of velvet caressing her 
round, white throat, from which depended the sacred 
emblem of their faith. 

“ What do you suppose he said to me this morning ?” 
Mrs. Beecham was inquiring with an amused smile 
upon her lips, as she settled the train of her dress by 
a thrust of her slippered foot against it. 

“Ah !” thought John in bitter wrath and a full re- 
ception of all his half entertained suspicions, “ she 
talks of me to him to-night, with that look of cruel 
amusement.” As the rector did not immediately re- 
ply, she persisted, “ you could not guess, Paul, how 
much of a discoverer Mr. Beecham has become.” 

“ No,” he replied, with a sort of an abstract hesitancy 
in his speech, and a white, still look upon his gray 
features. “ I might not guess what Mr. Beecham has 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


37 


had the astuteness to discover ; I do know some things 
he has not discovered,” he responded in a slight tone 
of sarcasm, adding, as she would have interrupted 
him : “You are still leading me away from the sor- 
rowful object of my visit here to-night. You know I 
have felt constrained to accept the hour you appointed 
for this interview, but I am much distressed, Alice, 
lest it is ill advised action on my part, that may com- 
promise you.” 

Something came into Alice Beecham’s face John 
had never seen there before, as she leaned gently 
forward to lay her hand lightly upon the rector’s 
knee. 

“ Paul, if one should hold in their hand a cup of 
poison which they had been doomed to swallow ; 
would you grudge them a little dalliance with sweet 
life ?” 

There were tears in the eyes that she raised appeal- 
ingly to his face, and the sound of them in her musi- 
cal voice. With an expression of being startled from 
his reserve, he covered the hand resting upon his 
knee with his own, and held it thus, warmly clasped, 
while she continued speaking in a tone of light banter 
and amusement. 

“ I want you to know, Paul, that Mr. Beecham has 
made a most remarkable discovery in his own house,” 
she was now laughing openly. The man holding her 
hand continued to regard her with a pained intensity 
in his face she assumed not to notice, as she went 
on like one forcing herself to display a spirit of 
humor somewhat at variance with a deeper and con- 
cealed emotion. 

“ Why, Paul ! Mr. Beecham has discovered, really 
discovered at last that he has a wife, and that she is 
an object worthy of some particular attention on his 
part, as his discoveries have extended so far into the 
province of his domestic affairs, that he thinks he sees 


3B 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


the green eye in the person of my cousin, John, set 
upon his own valued possessions.” 

“ Where is he to-night ?” inquired the rector, 
sternly. 

She laughed bitterly. Think of it, Paul ! Mr. 
Beecham proposes to contest the case with that poor 
boy, who has a clever head to be sure, but came to 
us so awkward, as you know, 1 had not only to fashion 
his religious precepts and teach him his prayers, but 
also the proper way to dispose of his hands and feet. 
Poor John ! that he should aspire so much, or that I 
should fall so low as to be suspected of engaging in 
some domestic intrigue with my young cousin. You 
are hurting my hand, Paul.” 

“ Pardon me, dear Mrs. Beecham, I was thinking of 
your husband. I am deeply disturbed this evening,” 
with which statement he withdrew his hand to place 
it across his eyes, where he sat quietly listening with 
his elbow resting upon the arm of the chair. 

“One woman,” thought John,” hath more of a 
devil in her than ten men. She is a female Mephisto- 
philes.” 

The rector did not share John’s harsh opinion of 
his fair cousin ; all his tender, manly sympathies were 
stirred to their depths by the wrongs of an innocent 
and beautiful woman. All his incense fell upon the 
guilty man who had flung his jewel out to the tempta- 
tion of robbers. A momentary silence fell between 
them, during which the heart of the listener beat with 
jealous fury, while the bowed head of the rector sug- 
gested that he was engaged in prayer, and Alice 
Beecham, with a puzzled frown upon her low brow, 
beat her slippered foot softly upon the carpet. 

“ Paul, did you ever think while performing the 
beautiful marriage service of our church, that your 
words and a loop of gold have set the seal to more 
human misery than all the prayers of the saints have 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 39 

ever redeemed. Marriage is generally a mistake — 
for a woman — a most terrible mistake.” 

“ Oh, Alice, Alice ! Little woman !” in his earnest- 
ness he leaned suddenly toward her, grasping the arm 
of the chair. Her composure was so thoroughly 
shaken by what she observed in him, she struggled to 
save herself by not considering that which she had 
provoked. She rose hastily from her seat, but failed 
in her effort ; such a conquest is very rare in the life 
of any woman ; she knew it and reluctantly yet fear- 
fully, turned her face ; their eyes met in that silent 
language of the heart to which she was far from be- 
ing insensible. 

Trembling and pale, she dropped weakly back into 
her chair, putting out her hands as she did so with a 
cry of helpless submission which might have led many 
a less desperate man to prejudice his interests with 
heaven for the joy of such consent ; but the incorrup- 
tible nature of the man recoiled suddenly from its 
own guilty fancies. Aware that he had failed to 
carry into practice in his life the lofty precept she 
had taught, he struggled to free himself from that 
fatal fascination which Mrs. Beecham exercised over 
him. He rose from his chair, also, with some air of 
decision, but v/ith a face still expressive of all that he 
suffered in the conflict. 

“ Alice, you know it must be so ; I must go. I am 
no longer a teacher and a leader of my flock, but one 
of the sheep, and it is not proper I should set myself 
before them as an example, where I have so failed in 
practice. No, no ! I should anticipate with every 
word I uttered the wrath of a justly incensed God. In 
their presence, pricked by an accusing- conscience, I 
should feel constrained to cry, ‘ unclean !’ Dear Mrs. 
Beecham, the weakness of my heart, and the strength 
of that love which should be your protection, demand 
that I act along that line of conduct which at soiji^ 


40 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


later season our judgment must approve. If I so far 
forgot myself as to act as your betrayer, I should 
prove the most damnable of men. God only knows 
how hard pressed I am to-night by temptation, and 
with what sorrow I say that I must leave you.” 

At this point she interrupted by raising her face 
and one hand in silent protest against this decision, 
then springing angrily to her feet, she clutched the 
cross upon her bosom, tore the black ribbon from her 
neck, and flung it passionately at his feet. 

“ Be merciful to me if you are so cruel to yourself !” 
she entreated, losing all self-command. “ Be merciful 
to me, Paul !” The red blood of confusion followed 
this speech, as halt ashamed of her vehemence, she 
bent down her dark head to conceal her burning face 
in the palms of her hands. He simply stood looking 
upon the graceful figure, so suggestive of agon- 
ized humility, and although he spoke no word, made 
no motion, his lips were like a line of steel in their 
strong effort to repress that which beat behind them 
for expression ; his eyes burned with passionate emo- 
tion, and his cheeks were white with the pain of teas- 
ing desire. 

That moment had arrived which was destined to 
bring the crucial strain upon the weak link which 
bound and made even the virtue of an exemplary 
character. Contemplating a proud woman so hum- 
bled before him, he had a double force to contend 
against, endowed as he was with that fineness of sense 
to feel an attraction on the material side of his nature 
to her remarkable beauty, and upon the spiritual side 
to thatJntellectual kinship, which day after day, and 
month after month of intimate association had com- 
manded his veneration of her exceptional character, 
so that almost before he realized the force of her 
presence in his thoughts, she had knit herself to his 
inner life so closely he could not touch any passion of 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


41 


his nature where she was not lodged as a vital part of 
it. For a few seconds he seemed incapable of speech. 
He stretched forth his arms only to quickly withdraw 
them, as he clutched his hand to his side, his brow, 
in an action of distress. 

“Alice ! oh, Alice! dear little woman — you must for- 
give me for this — this once,” he took her slowly, de- 
liberately into his arms, as if all the time he was hold- 
ing in check the ecstatic rush of intense feeling. He 
laid his cheek against her own, he brushed her hair 
lightly with his thin hand. “ Between you and my 
God, my heart is divided !” he said, then he pressed 
his lips passionately against her warm white throat. 
“ In my life both must live forever !” he concluded. 
While speaking thus he dropped her from his em- 
brace as suddenly as he had taken her up. All the 
glistening light of happiness which had made his 
strong, fine face beautiful, was succeeded by the 
cloud and sorrow of his necessary departure, as he 
picked up the discarded emblem of their faith, and 
threw it hastily over her shoulder. With swift, 
changing color in her face, and passion burning in 
her dark eyes, she would have repudiated the claim, 
only that he looked at her so reproachfully. “ For 
my sake, Mrs. Beecham, you would break your bond 
with Heaven ! For my sake, let me implore you to 
renew it, and forget if possible, how weak a man can 
be in the strength of his great love of what is so ten- 
derly human. In the years of solitude or years of 
work I may number, when I cannot fail to remember 
that which I should forget, that only one woman lives 
for me, let me feel the willing sacrifice that I have 
made of myself for the love of God and her honor, 
has not been in vain.” 

Then as if he sought to rebind her heart to a 
divine claim strengthened by the tie of his great love 
for her, he stooped to kiss the cross upon her bosom, 


42 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


and was gone, almost before she had sufficiently re- 
covered from the shock of his open avowal, to realize 
that in the hour she had won the noble love of the 
noblest man she had ever known she had lost him 
forever. 

For a few moments she stood transfixed like a 
woman turned to stone, staring at the open door 
through which he had vanished, then she threw her- 
self upon the divan, and, burying her face upon her 
knees she commenced to cry hysterically. 

From the first John had been so thoroughly sur- 
prised by the scene in the drawing room, he had lost 
a sense of his own position as an actor in it. All his 
faculties were over-strained and fraught with excite- 
ment. This woman, — at last the troublesome prob- 
lem was solving itself in his mind ; this woman in her 
infinite variety had revealed herself at length, as not 
a saint set upon some lofty, and unapproachable 
pinnacle ; she was simply a woman, lovable, loving, 
who could make grave mistakes, like other mortals. 
If it cost him the final demolition of an ideal he could 
endure her being true to something. It destroyed in 
one instant his faith in the claim of religion to rule 
into quiet the passions of our susceptible hearts, it 
leveled humanity to his own crude standing in the 
moral world. Nothing, he concluded, under the cloak 
was finer than himself, and the knowledge gave 
liberty to an impulse he had struggled to crush as 
unworthy of himself and some lofty dream he had 
entertained of humanity. He saw this proud, unap- 
proachable woman, wrenched by the same passions 
as had made the conflict so bitter within himself, and 
listening to her cry of anguish as she sat weeping 
upon the divan, the sympathy of kindred feelings 
drew him to her with that resistless longing which 
had ruled the rector’s actions. 

He did not care how many men she had ruined by 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


43 


lier fatal beauty, her dangerous power of fascination ; 
how many men had kissed her, if he too might share 
their favors. This thought led him to recall her 
scathing description of himself. “ She had taught an 
awkward boy to use his hands and feet.” He grew red 
in the face with anger, as all these thoughts and im- 
pressions, which it takes so long to describe, flashed 
very rapidly though John’s mind while he stood un- 
decided whether to let his presence be known or to 
allow Mrs. Beecham to leave the room, and keep his 
knowledge to himself. 

Before he had arrived at the point of decision Mrs. 
Beecham arose from the divan, brushed her eyes with 
a delicate lace handkerchief, shrugged her shoulders, 
buried her nose in the ascension lilies, betrayed quite 
a good deal of concern in their arrangement, pulling 
up a stem here, and thrusting down a flower there, 
until apparently satisfied with the effect, she walked 
over to one of the mirrors that were set into the wall 
with heavy gilt mouldings, where she commenced 
what seemed like a scientific survey of her face and 
figure. 

She toyed idly with the cross upon which an earnest 
soul had just left the final seal of a heart-breaking 
confession, and the man whom her prayers had led 
hellward instead of heavenward, saw the slow, cruel 
smile of triumph creep round the corners of her beau- 
tiful lips. Such a smile as Cleopatra’s face must have 
worn after she had won Antony. 

“My God!” muttered John, “ she has played her 
part to the very last act, under a mask, she hasn’t 
even a heart,” and sick and faint he turned away 
from her, sitting hopelessly down among the plants ; 
he covered his face with his hands, experiencing that 
relief which tears sometimes bring to save our reason. 
He wept, with the great drops of grief and disappoint- 
ment rolling through his fingers and dropping upon 


44 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

the floor. They were the last tears John King ever 
shed. 

Then he went to his room, hurriedly packed his 
trunk and left the house. He made his way to the 
Revere House, where he hired a room, sent for his 
trunk and called for a bottle of wine ; then he com- 
menced to write to Mrs. Beecham. He dropped the 
formal title which great respect had formerly led 
him to use when addressing her. Alice Beecham,” 
he wrote, “ your prayers have availed much with 
Heaven, it is a pity you should not have a full knowl- 
edge of their benefit, as they have sent one noble 
soul to the cloisters and a more reckless devil to Hell. 
Yours with unmitigated contempt. — John King.” 

Alice Beecham, who was far from being the wicked 
woman John King believed, although too proud to 
request an explanation where so much was sug- 
gested she would not care to talk about, never ceased 
to brood upon this rebuke to her character. 

It relieved his sense of injury to charge upon her 
the meditated ruin of his soul ; to disturb the even 
balance of life by casting the weight of his prejudice 
on that side of the scale which would make light of 
the virtue of women, .because one of them had not 
acted up to his high idea of a woman. 

Every glass of wine, which now he began to take 
in immoderate quantities, he said within himself, 
Alice Beecham is responsible for ; every dollar he 
flung away in reckless attempts to efface her image 
from his soul was accounted to her. 

After awhile, overcome and worn out, he set his 
weary face homeward, with a longing for rest, and a 
sense of guilt still tearing at the fagged end of his 
peace. 

Long, kindly, loving letters from his mother were 
freighted with anxious inquiries. Why had he given 
up his position ? why had he left Mrs. Beecham ’s J* 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


45 


she could get no satisfactory report from the lady 
herself, although she had twice written her concern- 
ing her son.” Mrs. Beecham’s reply was enclosed 
with one of these motherly epistles, it ran as follows : 
“ My Dear Cousin : — About all I can say of John’s 
freak is that he has the King blood in him ; perhaps 
you may have learned ere this that it is a bit heady 
and unruly ; although Cousin John, Sr., always seemed 
to have it under control, John King, Jr. acted his 
pleasure in coming to me, and in going has done the 
same I suppose. He certainly was not sent away.” 

“Curse her !” cried John, in a fury, flinging the 
letter into the fire. After this the very air of the 
same city where Alice Beecham breathed seemed to 
stifle him, and he went home. 

When he arrived at the old mansion his father and 
mother expressed much surprise at his jaded appear- 
ance, but they could get very little information con- 
cerning his life, or the cause of his evident trouble. 
For a year John remained at home in quiet ; study- 
ing some, and doing desultory work with his pen in 
the way of reviews for several magazines : but whom 
fate has selected for honor cannot long conceal him- 
self from the public eye. 

He received a second invitation to go to New York 
as editor of the dramatic column of one of the great 
dailies. Already a desire for movement and adven- 
ture was making itself felt in his life. The scenes of 
his boyhood and the monotony of country life palled 
upon a mind that had proven itself capable to cope 
with the larger concerns of life. 

About this time his mother, who had been ailing 
for a long time, was stricken with a sudden illness, 
of which she died after a few hours’ suffering. Upon 
John now devolved the sad duty of companioning his 
father’s lonely hours. The loss of his mother made a 
deep impression upon his strong, passionate nature. 


46 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


The tenderest good seemed to pass out from his life 
with her death, and a settled bitterness to fix itself in 
his soul. His father grew silent, and even morose, 
until his malady terminated in madness. One day 
the sun rose on his dead body, wet with evening dew, 
stretched upon his wife’s grave. Under a cloud John 
sold the old homestead, and left the town now peopled 
for him only with ghosts and sad memories. 

For a number of years he threw himself into the 
whirl and excitement of a semi-bohemian existence 
in New York. 

He had no special vocation, and could hardly ac- 
count for all this time in after years. 

John King was awakened to the fact of his aimless 
existence at last by an aquaintance inquiring why in 
the world he did not go in for theatrical management. 
This idea had no sooner taken King’s fancy than he 
commenced to investigate the business. 

He gained much valuable information, and in a 
very short time became closely associated with the 
theatrical world. 

His efforts to obtain a position as manager were at 
last rewarded by receiving a communication which 
ran as follows : 

“ My dear Mr. King ; Having heard you spoken 
of as a prospective manager, will you kindly call 
upon me Wednesday, at three o’clock, when we may 
be able to make some arrangements in regard to 
your managing my forthcoming tour. Signed, 

Avis Branscombe.” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


47 


CHAPTER III. 

John King, shrewd, sharp, business-like, met his 
appointments with the woman without a fear of fail- 
ure. Despite his inexperience with things theatrical, 
his journalist’s work had given him a keen insight 
into all that was necessary for the success of a theat- 
rical manager. 

The woman herself, was long past the height of 
her fame, in fact, a semi-downward career was all 
that now awaited her. Perhaps John King would 
not have chosen Avis Brancombe as his first attempt, 
had he been able to make a choice as to whom he 
would manage, but, comparatively unknown in New 
York, even as a journalist, he was compelled to gain 
his initial experience with Branscombe. The woman 
realized upon their first interview, which took place 
in a dingy room of her dark little flat, that she had 
to deal with a man whose business ability was far 
superior to her own. 

For the last three years nonenities had been en- 
deavoring to pull her through each successive sea- 
son, generally succeeding, but not before, bit by bit, 
the little fortune which she had managed to save 
had dwindled down to a few thousands. There had 
been an invalid mother and shiftless husband to care 
for ; both were dead now, but during her troubles 
and disappointments she had become addicted to the 
morphine habit, and taken altogether Branscombe at 
forty-five was pretty nearly a wreck. 

Why the woman had insisted upon remaining be- 
fore the public, when youth, beauty and popularity 
had deserted her, was no more to be wondered at, 
than the attraction which a gaming table has for the 
professional gambler who has lost all. 


48 


JOHN KING, MANAGER* 


Branscombe forgot her present defects in the re« 
membering of her past triumphs. 

In small Western towns people still recalled the 
beautiful Branscombe, and on this fact she had built, 
year after year, the hope of winning applause and 
admiration as of old. 

Poor soul ! in the large cities people had forgotten 
or only laughed at her poor attempts when they re- 
membered. 

Not a pleasant outlook for John King certainly ; 
but bad management he knew had caused many a 
failure in life ; while the clever mind and a shrewd 
pen had frequently kept a man’s head above water, 
until the public had been coaxed into first noticing, 
then admiring, and at last worshiping. A newspaper 
was simply a tool to be bought or used. John King 
knew that men were sometimes influenced by the 
memory of beauty as typified by some past or present 
sweetheart in criticising an actress’s work. 

There was not the slightest difficulty in completing 
arrangements between Branscombe and her new 
manager. Hitherto she had been obliged to assume a 
portion of the management ; now, the business devolv- 
ing upon a man competent to contend with all the 
trials of a thirty-five week tour, she had leisure to 
think more of her work and less of the paying of 
railway fares from town to town. 

John King went back to his little hall room in 
Twenty-fourth Street with a sense of having accom- 
plished the means to enter at last upon a career which 
interested him. He was uncommunicative in regard 
to his new venture ; one wondered when he did his 
work, he was so very quiet and apparently indifferent. 

The general conception of the character of a 
theatrical manager is that he must be free to talk in 
regard to the talent of his star and the large receipts 
of the box office. John King spoke of neither. He 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


49 


personally engaged the company for Branscombe’s 
support without once consulting that lady. His 
knowledge of acting was somewhat limited, but his 
intuition of character was not to be cheated. He was 
a good listener, always waiting patiently until his 
applicant had finished his or her story ; but his 
opinion was fixed upon at the outset. Finding that 
there was a vacancy yet to be filled in the company, 
King called late one afternoon at a well known 
agency in Thirty-fourth Street. 

Mrs. Weatherspoon although hopelessly uncivil to 
aspirants not well on the road to success, or able to 
return her favors by proper souvenirs, greeted all 
managers, as she did John King, with an effusive 
manner and a expansive smile. She begged him to 
be seated, and before he had time to state his errand, 
commenced to chat with enthusiasm of several 
special pets ; concluding with the inquiry as to 
whether there was not a vacancy in the Branscombe 
company ? 

When John King had answered in the affirmative, 
Mrs. Weatherspoon rustled away in that everlasting 
black silk to secure photographs for King’s inspection. 

He looked them over carefully, declining all with 
the whimsical remark that they were too much on 
the “ soubrette ” style and he was looking for an “ in- 
genue.” 

Mrs. Weatherspoon sniffed contemptuously and re- 
sumed her knitting, which she had dropped tempo- 
rarily. To think that her aquarium (I say aquarium 
advisedly, for were the occupants not in the swim }) 
did not contain a suitable specimen ! 

In the meantime. King had taken a photograph 
from a table near him. It is a sweet, innocent face 
that he contemplates, with soft, dreamy eyes, and a 
Burne Jones curve of lip and chin. 

“ Who is this, Mrs. Weatherspoon ?” King inquires. 


50 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


“ That ? well ” Mrs. Weatherspoon could not 

remember. 

Evidently not one of the pets,” King thinks to 
himself. 

“ Ah, here is the address,” he says, having turned 
the photograph over, as is natural when one is con- 
templating a face which interests him ; and King 
reads, “ Eileen Kendall, 167 W. Sixty-third St., New 
York City.” 

“ If you really wish, I will send her to you,” Mrs. 
Weatherspoon remarks, without the usual fluttering 
anxiety in her voice. 

“ No, decidedly, this girl is not of the chosen few.” 

King hesitates for a moment, glances at the picture 
once more, and then says slowly : 

“ Yes ; send her to me. To-morrow at eleven,” and 
then adds as he bids Mrs. Weatherspoon good after- 
noon, “ if she is as pretty as the photograph she will 
do.” 

So it_followed that the next day, promptly at 
eleven o’clock, Eileen Kendall called upon King. 

She was almost at the commencement of her ca- 
reer, but her type of beauty suited the character in 
the cast, and fifteen minutes later she had signed her 
contract. 

She felt perfectly happy at the prospect of this 
opportunity. She was ambitious and intelligent, and 
as was proved later, a girl of marked talent. 

King, the company complete and his dates made,' 
started west for the opening town, and on the fifth 
of October the tour commenced. 

Business progressed favorably and King’s reputa- 
tion grew ; he firmly believed in himself, and despite 
an occasional drop in the receipts of the box office 
he manifested not the slightest concern about it, 
knowing that his energy would bring his star safely 
through the season, Which was true. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


51 


The woman, who for the last few seasons had been 
hopelessly drifting from New York to the coast, and 
back again from the coast to New York, now realized 
that it was not a matter of hopeless drift but actual 
financial enterprise. 

Of Eileen he saw but little ; she was quiet, digni- 
fied, and did her work well. He would have liked 
very much to have seen more of her, but curbed his 
impatience, hoping by so doing she might volunta- 
rily unbend in his direction. Her experience in the 
world had been so brief that the girlish ideals were 
still fresh. She looked upon John King in her ex- 
aggerated fancy as a soul to be saved, perhaps ; but 
she was utterly ignorant of the undercurrents that 
awaited the woman, who, putting out her 'hand to 
save him, would be hurried on to a wild whirlpool of 
disaster. 

The man’s ideal of woman had been rudely shat- 
tered, and in bitterness of spirit he had turned to the 
pleasures appealing to the lowest side of his nature. 

The girl had but small conception of all this ; her 
fancy pictured the making of a hero. John King saw 
only a pretty face, nothing more. And she was a 
woman, therefore to be won. 

This first season ended most successfully. Upon his 
arrival in New York, King organized a stock company 
for a summer season in a Western city. 

Eileen had shown so much ability that King for 
some time had regarded her in the light of a financial 
speculation. He engaged her, therefore, for a second- 
ary position, knowing it would give her an opportu- 
nity to polish her already well developed art for the 
coming season. 

In the meantime, Eileen's girlish fancy for King 
had grown into a strong attachment, and this, linked 
to a great ambition;, made her as clay in the hands of 
the sculptor. 


jortN kiMg, Manager. 


5 ^ 

John King did his best to mould the model to his 
own selfish end. Her ambition and her love for King, 
her desire to reach the goal for his sake, made the 
otherwise arduous work of this summer seem less dif- 
ficult. She looked anxiously forward to the time 
when she might attempt all the great roles, and 
worked and studied with this end in view. 

So it transpired that when at last her great oppor- 
tunity came, she was quite equal to it. Her face had 
grown even more beautiful ; it warmed and glowed, 
developing like a flower beneath the tropical sun. 

John King noticed, and for a moment wondered. 

Her opportunity came most unexpectedly. Camille 
was (in stage parlance) to be “ put on.” Regardless 
of her desire to assume the role, the fair leading 
woman realized that her tendency to an embonpoint 
would compel her to resign the part. Eileen enter- 
ing the Theatre one morning with the part of Olyrape 
in her hand, but the part of Camille in her head, 
found the company ranged about the stage exhibit- 
ing an unusual interest. 

Not a person would so far flatter or please her to 
the extent of conveying the necessary intelligence, 
and it was not until Timmons, the stage manager, 
appeared, that she knew she was to try Camille. 

Little incredulous smiles played over the faces of 
the company, as Eileen walked to the right of the 
stage, each person endeavoring not to betray their 
belief in the girl’s success. 

Eileen trembled a little and shivered as she fre- 
quently did from nervousness, but by the time she re- 
ceived her entrance cue she had regained her power, 
and an almost supernatural force seemed to surround 
her. A sense of King’s presence spurred her on to do 
her best, and from the end of the third act until the 
close of the rehearsal, the company never ceased to 
wonder. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


53 


That the girl had power there had been but little 
doubt, but power allied to such a great conception 
seemed nothing short of marvelous. 

Of all who had witnessed her performance upon the 
opening night, none felt more impressed by it than 
John King as he sat in the stage box and leaned 
across the rail to watch the impassioned play of the 
young actress’ features. 

It was not death simulated, but real torture of the 
heart expiring with the blasted young life. Before 
the curtain dropped, while a perfect storm of flowers 
were showered over the footlights, John King had 
hurried to the stage that he might be first to offer con- 
gratulations to the victorious actress ; he, however, 
allowed her full time for all the honor of the occasion, 
which recalled her again and again, but as soon as the 
curtain fell for the last time, he came deliberately 
across the stage holding out both his firm, white 
hands, with a smile of triumph greeting that which 
wreathed the girl’s lips. With a pretty breathless 
show of exhaustion, she dropped suddenly down in 
the midst of the dearly earned trophies of success. 
As she turned to gather a few flowers into her lap, she 
raised her left hand to meet the warm clasp of King’s 
fingers. He placed his strong arm about her waist, 
and she came to her feet with a little short, hard breath 
of passionate feeling, which he did not fail to notice. 
He held her against him for a moment, with such re- 
sponse in his face, that the girl made a little half 
frightened effort to free herself from his welcome 
embrace, turning her head away from him with 
modest grace, in such a way as to present the temp- 
tation to King who stooped to lay his lips for one 
moment against her white throat. 


H 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


CHAPTER IV. 

JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

Upon his arrival in New York, John King felt flat- 
tered upon being asked to take the position as mana- 
ger of a young Italian actor, who had already played 
two successful seasons in America. 

Eileen was offered the position as leading-woman ; 
her fair beauty making an excellent foil for the dark, 
handsome foreigner. A new and greater interest 
now appeared to John King. Here was success tak- 
ing him by the hand, congenial people were sur- 
rounding him, demanding that he become a social 
success in conjunction with his star. 

Business kept him in New York most of the time. 
It seemed to Eileen that they were slowly but surely 
drifting away from each other. 

Savelli was meeting with triumph after triumph. 

Eileen was falling more and more into the back- 
ground. King showed his supreme ambition and 
utter selfishness by entirely forgetting the girl’s ex- 
istence. 

He was developing a great capacity for business, 
and a partnership had been formed between himself 
and his star ; thus the interest of one became the in- 
terest of the other. 

Several weeks had elapsed, when one day it oc- 
curred to the practical mind of John King, that Ei- 
leen was not pla5dng up to the usual mark. She had 
worked with almost a man’s power of endurance at 
the commencement of the engagement, and, as a 
leading woman for the star had given perfect satis- 
faction. At last, John King spoke to her after a 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


55 


particularly bad performance, in a tone of kindly re- 
proof, concluding with the admonition that unless 
she improved upon the following evening, she must 
anticipate a dismissal from the company. 

She did not move, nor make any audible reply, 
although her pale lips trembled nervously, as she sat 
staring at him with wide, tearless eyes, full of a 
misery she could summon no voice to utter. 

Her pretty, white fingers were locked against her 
heart, as if thus to silently locate the seat of affiiction. 
Something in the dumb anguish of her eyes stirred 
the kindly impulses of his nature. He took a step 
toward her with an expression of alarm. 

“ For God’s sake, Eileen !” The last vestige of color 
left her face as he spoke, and before he could aid her, 
she had fallen to the floor, where she lay gray and 
lifeless, for a time insensible to pain. With instincts 
of noble generosity, which impelled John King to 
consider his responsibility to any creature that 
depended upon him, he stooped to raise her from the 
floor. He was moved to this action by a feeling of 
pity akin to love.” Such emotion as one extends 
to unfortunate inferior creatures, who have a claim 
upon our tender human sympathies, without any title 
to our respect. 

“ Poor little Eileen,” he said chafing her face, with 
his soft, cool hand. Had he been as self analytical 
as he was inclined to dissect others, he might have 
discovered in the complaint between them, where their 
lives were running at cross purposes, that his was the 
larger fault. If she had become a nonentity, he had 
made her such by the great strength and .dominance 
of his nature, which had so overborne the weaker 
spirit of the soft, loving woman ; he had crushed her 
individuality and merged it in his own ; he had left 
the robbed treasure-house of a human soul with one 
power; that, her senseless worship of himself; whereas 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


56 

John King had been endowed with some fine qualities, 
which under ordinary circumstances, might have 
made him a very good and lovable man, he was under 
all circumstances, a very poor idol and unfit to be 
worshiped. Perhaps he knew it, and recoiled by 
instinct from the idolatry which sets a man so much 
above his natural plane. Criticism and resistance 
was what he required to awaken deep feeling and 
strong endeavor. 

As soon as she commenced to revive, which she did 
after a few minutes, he placed her upon the sofa of 
the dressing-room, where she sat with the heavy tears 
dropping from her downcast eyes, still pale and non- 
resistant. He was more phased by this attitude which 
she assumed, than he would have been in facing a 
whole regiment of angry men. He stood in the cen- 
tre of the floor with the highly polished boots in 
which his feet were incased placed squarely together, 
his hands thrust into his pockets, his shoulders braced 
back, but his chin resting meditatively upon his 
bosom. The figure, so suggestive of John King in a 
quandary, was characteristically marked by the long 
side glances which he bestowed upon the weeping 
girl, and the savage little grinding of his teeth on the 
end of his moustache. At last he spoke again ; think- 
ing it was only just to her to be gentle, he asked, 
soothingly, if she was as ambitious as ever ?" 

Just as ambitious,” she had replied, coldly. 

Yes, but you do not work as well,” King answered, 
in a tone of annoyance. 

“ Not as well,” the girl thought. She knew why 
she did not work as well, she realized that King had 
already wearied of her, and the knowledge made her 
faint and sick. How was she to live? The world 
stretched forth an endless blank to her. 

If he could but realize bow much she needed him. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 57 

His love was her inspiration, her very life. Already 
his neglect was beginning to tell in her work. 

The shame of it ! the bitter shame of it ! 

The stormy passion had succumbed to a drought 
which parched her lips, paled the rose-tinted face, and 
dulled the brilliancy of her eyes. Now that the girl’s 
bad attempts were interfering with King financially, 
there was nothing to do but cast her aside. 

Eileen realized that a climax was approaching. 
She knew that her work grew less spontaneous with 
each performance, it became harder and harder to- 
work up to the star, she met the love scenes with a 
strange, cold mechanism. 

“ It will never do,” John King said to his star one 
evening, referring to Eileen. Although it interferred 
with Savelli, he had a kindly thought for the girl who 
had surprised him at first with her talent. 

“ Try her a few more performances. King.” 

This suggestion was acted upon, and the woman, 
whose heart seemed breaking beneath the strain was 
tried a few more performances with no better results. 
There was nothing to be done but to engage some 
one else for the position. 

It was not a pleasant task John King set himself to 
do that afternoon, namely, to give Eileen — how omin- 
ous the words are ; her two weeks’ notice. The girl 
greeted him with a severity of manner which piqued 
him for the moment. 

“ You are angry, Eily^.?” he asked with that old, win- 
ning intonation of the voice, which rang through all 
the chambers of sense, as an echo of tenderness from 
the fading dream of her life. A flash of hope bright- 
ened her face as she came across the floor, vyth her 
happy eyes raised to his and her lips to be kissed ; 
but the tenderness of the man’s nature was quickly 
over-ruled by another quality of selfishness, which 


58 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

brought his practical business mind once more to the 
front. 

‘‘ You are falling off, Eily, both in looks and acting, 
what is it ?” 

The girl’s fierce uncontrollable pride forced her to 
silence ; could she tell this man, who had long since 
forgotten she had even a heart, that it was her great 
love for him, and his cold indifference to her, which 
had ruined her power as an actress ? She knew he 
would laugh and doubt the fact. 

“ Is my work unsatisfactory ?” she asked quietly. 

“Very,” he returns. 

“ I am sorry. I have tried to do my best.” 

“ Then it is a very bad best,” King says sarcas- 
tically. 

The girl’s lip quivers, “ and — and — ” she hesitates. 

“And you will kindly accept your two weeks’ 
notice.” 

The horror and agony of that moment John King 
never knew ; the woman prayed in her heart that he 
might never know. She seemed turned to stone, and 
she had no word for him. 

To King it was so easy to become nauseated with 
the intimate relations of life ; so when Eileen made a 
weak appeal to his heart, his reply was this : “ You 

do not comprehend that to me you have ceased to be 
attractive. What in the devil has come across you ? 
Your first performances were charming conceptions, 
I thought you had a soul, instead I find you have 
only a body. What do I want of a body without 
sense ? It may amuse me to-day, but to-morrow I 
am tired.” 

With this cruel speech he would have left her, only 
that she cast herself before him in the most beseech- 
ing attitude of despair. 

“ Step upon me ! crush me ! anything ! anything ! 
only, for God’s sake, don’t leave me this way !” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


59 


He looked down upon her, thus abased before him, 
with an emotion of tender compassion softening 
the stern, scornful expression of his features ; but 
experienced immediately a revulsion of feeling 
he could not overcome. There was not sufficient 
force in the woman nor principle in himself to hold 
him to honor. As he stood one moment, halting be- 
tween the native kindness of his nature, which led 
him to consider a human thing in pain, and the natu- 
ral abhorrence with which she now inspired him by 
her exhibition of weakness, his ruined manhood ap- 
peared half as pathetic as the girl’s utter self-aban- 
donment. 

Looking upon him now, his robust nature softened 
by generations of culture, he had decidedly the grace 
of strength about him, but a strength that had become 
brutal in its effects upon his general character. 

It is no use, little girl, you may just as well brace 
up and get over it. To women of your type this sort 
of thing is as catching as the measles and not more 
dangerous.” 

No, no !” she cried, seizing his hands, that were 
almost as delicate as her own. “ No, no ! I can’t 
bear it !” 

He coolly disengaged himself from her desperate 
fingers, at the same time forcibly raising her and com- 
pelling her to sit in a chair. 

“ Believe me, Eily, I appreciate good acting on the 
stage, but not in private ; and I do not think it pro- 
per that a woman should kneel to me.” 

“You are a weak, a very weak woman ! If I loved 
you, like the rest of your inconstant sex, you would 
only hate me in return.” 

He stopped before her with almost a wish to take 
the keen edge off her regret. 

You are a pretty child^ Eily^ and I have but in- 


6o 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


itiated you into scenes through which you must pass 
if you want to get on as an actress. You will find 
there is but one way open to a girl upon the stage, 
and that is the use of her beauty as a purchasing 
power for the favors of men.” 

She did not move or reply. She sat with her brows 
pressed against the back of the chair, her face con- 
cealed in the circle of her bare arms, her delicate 
fingers alone expressive of what she suffered. 

“ Look here, Eily, I will give you one more chance 
to redeem yourself, and ruin me,” 

“ I do not want it, let me go away. I have no wish 
to harm you,” she said, wearily, adding with a hard, 
dry sob, “ I can never act again ! Never ! never ! 
never !” 

“ Oh, yes you can, dear ; come, come ; cheer up ! 
Suppose you take a trip to Europe ? I will give you 
enough to enable you to live quietly over there for 
awhile. When you come back to the stage, you will 
have become a more discreet and sensible woman.” 

She dropped her arms from her face at last and sat 
submissively looking up at him, her eyes full of 
agony, her cheeks white as paper, her lips weak and 
tremulous. 

“ If anything should happen, if — if — ” her lips re- 
fused to form the words. 

With this reference to something he now no longer 
cares to remember, a flush of shame stole across his 
face, as his eyes wavered beneath her steady look. 
He forced himself to reply to her, according to his 
own doubtful code of honor. 

“You should understand I am not such a brute as 
that. I recognize the fact that you, as a woman, have 
some rights, which we, as men, are bound to respect. 
I have not compromised you ; I have not harmed you, 
except in that fancy which makes you look so miser- 
able now, and at which you will smile to-morrow. 


JOHl^ ICING, MAl^AGEtl. 


6t 


But it is not in my nature to desert a woman in real 
trouble ; you need but to appeal to me, and I will 
help you.’* 

He turned abruptly, leaving the girl to her own 
melancholy reflections. 

She walked wearily across the room, where she 
stood some moments staring at her reflection in the 
mirror. 

The storm had burst upon her in all its fury, and 
in her wretchedness and despair, she felt truly it was 
“ a sorrow’s crown of sorrow.” 

Toward dusk a message came from King. It was 
to the effect that he would leave for the East that 
night. In other words it was his farewell to Eileen. 

He enclosed a draft on a foreign banking house, 
and extended his cruelty to the extreme by sending 
violets. 

Taking them in her hands Eileen pressed her lips 
against them. For the first time since her interview 
with King, the tears, warm and welcome as summer 
rain, coursed down her cheek. 

“ He will understand !” she cried, her hands pit- 
eously outstretched, “ God will make him under- 
stand !” 

But King did not understand ; and the girl at last 
realized that she had been tricked by her own inno- 
cent fancy. Her uncorrupted faith in humanity had 
blinded her to the realities of life. 

So Eileen passed for a time out of John King’s 
knowledge. 


62 


JOHN KING, MANAGED. 


CHAPTER V. 

On his way East, in compliance with the request of 
an old friend, King stopped at Cleveland for the pur- 
pose of interviewing a young girl who wished to at- 
tempt the legitimate roles. In a conference together, 
Savelli and King recalled Judith Kent’s performance 
at the commencement of the season. Both gentlemen 
had been much impressed upon this occasion by the 
dramatic fire of the young actress’s impersonation 
and the grace and beauty of her person. 

Upon the morning John King was expected to ar- 
rive, Madame De Sequeria came into Judith Kent’s 
apartment, and found that young lady curling her 
hair. Judith came into the room when she heard 
her friend calling in that high, sweet treble, which 
the stage so often develops in the female voices, 
“Judith ! Judith, dear, where are you ?” 

“ Here I am !” replied Judith, brandishing the 
curling-tongs as she advanced. Madame kissed the 
bright cheek of the girl daintily, then commenced to 
chide in a tone of pretended severity, denied by the 
look of tender admiration which she bestowed upon 
the charming face and rather tall and graceful figure 
before her. 

“ Any anxious princess who anticipates the arrival 
of a King should have her toilette made before this 
hour, why it is nine o’clock ; already King is on his 
way.” 

“ How do you know ?” 

“ Because I have his telegram, I thought I would 
not ruffle your peaceful sleep by telling you last 
night.” 

“ You did not tell me, Olivia, when you know the 


JOHN king, manager. 63 

time it takes to put the finishing touches to my charm- 
ing make-up.” 

As she delivered this reproof, she ran laughingly 
away to complete her toilet, pinning up her hair as 
she went. 

Judith Kent, at the time we introduce her to you, 
was a young woman of twenty-five. She was possessed 
of a well rounded and symmetrical figure ; she was 
rather tall, not awkwardly so ; her face had the per- 
fect oval of youth. Her brow, that was not pro- 
nounced, was yet fair and smooth and womanly in 
its character, her nose on a perfect line with it, was 
slender, sensitive, and finely shaped. Her eyes were 
remarkably beautiful. They were well set under the 
delicate tracery of their brows ; so heavily fringed 
were the white lids that when she raised them, the 
shadow of their black lashes fell upon the clear iris. 
They were the eyes of Guido’s Cenci, freed from the 
pathos and tragedy of a Beatrice. Lastly her chin was 
delicately moulded, and her mouth that was not too 
sharply chiseled, redeemed the face from a touch of 
coldness ; it bespoke in its smiling frankness the 
warm, generous impulses of her nature, carefully 
guarded by the rule of pride and ambition ; a pride 
freed from all elements of vanity, and an ambition 
that was set toward noble ends. She had had careful 
training in the solid branches of education, as well as 
development in those graces and accomplishments 
that finally led her to adopt the stage as a profession. 
Her manners were exceedingly frank and winning, 
her expression vivacious and changeful as her moods, 
which were sometimes pathetic, but more often mani- 
fested the spirit of light-hearted youth. She was not 
in the least conventional. She seemed to have laws 
and regulations of her own, and often loved to shock 
people by breaking the iron bans of custom. While 
Madame and Judith were at breakfast discussing him, 


64 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


John King arrived, and with the business despatch 
that takes into account the passage of five minutes of 
time, he sent up his card, asking if Madame would see 
him in the parlor ; and knowing a woman’s inclina- 
tion to trifle with that valuable commodity which 
marks in the passage of its moments so much Heaven 
or Hell, fortune or disaster, in the life of a man, he 
supplemented the message with “ Will Madame see 
me as soon as possible ?” 

Tell Mr. King that we will receive him here at 
once,” replied Madame, as she closed the door, and 
turned upon Judith her last critical survey of that 
young lady’s appearance. 

Dear Madame, don’t look at me in that critical 
way,” complained Judith, as she moved from the table, 
“ it makes one feel as though they were about to be 
racked.” 

Madame smiled. “ Here ! here !” Judith'exclaimed 
whirling about suddenly with the point of her fore- 
finger meditatively pressed against her lip. 

“ I find at the last moment my self-esteem has ex- 
pired under the great weight of your opinion ; don’t 
say you do not mistrust me, for I can correctly con- 
strue that look of concern which makes you ten years 
older just now than you should be. I am all of a 
shake with fear of this King of your’s ; I will go out 
and get my breath while you describe me to him. 
You can describe so beautifully when you have a 
mind to,” she coaxed. 

“Alas!” she concluded, “that Judith Kent should 
live to fear a man so much ; but you have managed 
to make the image of this one terrible to me.” 

“ Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” counseled Madame, 
who could but notice how rapidly the nervous, quiv- 
ering red and white flashed in and out of the girl’s 
face, “ John King is too much a judge of women to 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 65 

be willing to accept my description ; he would like to 
have a more precise idea than I can give of you.” 

“ At least, I will have an entrance !” replied Judith, 
whose disposition was wilful, and before madame 
could protest she had left the room. 

It was as she averred; she felt unusually nervous, and 
strangely reluctant to meet John King. Not so much 
because the dignified poise of her own self-estimation 
was disturbed, as that a secret and nameless dread of 
an unknown presence filled her with superstitious awe 
of the coming interview. A subtle influence seemed 
to draw her, and a natural fear to repel her every 
time she thought of him. She felt certain she would 
know him ; for this purpose she left the room intend- 
ing to pass casually through the parlor where he was 
probably sitting ; if, when she saw him, the curious 
sensation of attraction and repulsion continued to 
operate upon her feelings, she would trust her intui- 
tion so far as to decline the proposed interview. 

In accordance with this intention to put her first 
impression of the manager to a private test, she ran 
lightly down the stairs ; when near the bottom she 
tripped, and would have dashed her face upon the 
tesselated floor, had not the quick hand and arm of a 
gentleman, who had just entered the hall, interposed 
to prevent her fall. 

In blushing confusion Judith gathered herself up. 

You have saved me from a fall, for which I must 
thank you,” she acknowledged with an attempt at 
dignity that was lost in the merry glance of her hazel 
eyes. With a keen, searching look that comprehended 
every detail of her charming face and figure, John 
King raised his hat. 

“ I have never performed a worthier action than to 
serve to your advantage,” he replied, with elaborate 
politeness. A subtle meaning in the words did not 
escape Judith’s sensitive ear. She did not like the 


66 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

remark ; it sounded bitter and sinister from the lips 
of a man who appeared very much of a gentleman. 

“ It is he,” thought Judith, whose intuitions were 
often phenomenal ; and with one of those impulses 
which often surprised and fascinated her friends, she 
put out her slim white hand. 

“ I am Judith Kent,” she said. 

A smile of pleasure lighted his grave features, as 
he accepted the hand thus offered in friendly greet- 
ing. 

“ I am John King,” he replied. “ It is a little sin- 
gular that — he hesitated. 

I should fall into your arms, Mr. King,” laugh- 
ingly supplemented Judith. 

I was about to say that we should meet so infor- 
mally.” 

“Come this way,” continued Judith, as she com- 
menced to ascend the stairs, “you wish to see 
Madame De Sequeria, I believe.” 

“ Dear Madame, I have brought your visitor to 
you,” Judith announced as she re-entered the room 
with King. 

“ Mr. King !” Madame exclaims, and with a pretty, 
graceful movement she came forward. , “ Where did 
you meet?” she inquired, looking at Judith’s still 
rather confused and blushing face. King explained 
the incident in a few brief words. 

“Judith dear, has Mr. King seen your perform- 
ance ?” 

“ Both Savelli and I have had that pleasure,” King 
replied, when Judith had looked at him inquiringly. 

“ Ah, then,” Madame continues, “ you know what 
she can do ; I think, dear, if you will leave Mr. King 
and me alone for awhile, we will be able to talk you 
over.” 

Thinking it a little singular that Madame should 
request her to be absent from her own business, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


67 


Judith rises rather slowly with an expression of inde- 
cision trembling upon her lips, but concludes she will 
make no protest, as she reluctantly leaves the room. 

Madame seats herself a little nearer King, whose 
glance has followed the graceful figure of the girl, 
and into his eyes has come a look of abstraction. He 
glances up pleasantly into Madame’s face as she places 
her hand upon his and asks, “ Pretty, is she not ?” 

“ Very,” answers King. 

I have known you long enough,” Madame contin- 
ues, “ to read that Sphinx-like face of yours ; I knew 
you were impressed the moment you two entered the 
room ; to me you seemed not unlike a prisoner led 
captive,” and she laughed lightly. 

John King shrugged his shoulders. “Bah!” he 
ejaculates, “ you know very well I have no patience 
with women.” 

“I know. King, that your experience with one 
woman has been unpleasant, that does not justify you 
in treating all women as though they were turned out 
of the same mould. I knew you well in the old days,” 
and Madame pauses, “ after your rather sad adven- 
ture in Boston.” 

“ Madame !” interrupts King, with an unusual show 
of emotion, and a quiver in his strong voice. 

“ My heart ached for you then,” pursues Madame 
De Sequeria hastily, who ignores King’s aversion to 
the subject he never discusses. 

Madame De Sequeria refers to these bitter memo- 
ries because by this means she hopes to break that icy 
reserve, which does not admit of too free speech with 
John King concerning his private life. 

“ I do not know how deep the ruin then wrought 
has gone, but this I do know ; I am putting into your 
hands, almost under your very protection, an inno- 
cent, pure-minded girl ; that you are at least im- 
pressed with her is very patent to me. Oh I” with a 


68 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


slight gesture of remonstrance as King is about to 
reply, “of course, how deeply I do not know. The 
profession is hard for a woman ; you know it better 
than I, John King, but for a girl as sweet and inno- 
cent as this one,” Madame De Sequeria pauses to 
steady her voice, “ It is Hell !” 

“ Will you inform me, Madame, why a good woman 
seeks a profession so trying to virtue as to make her 
very success dependent upon doubtful conditions ?” 
King’s chin is resting upon his bosom, and his strong 
eyes regarding Madame De Sequeria cynically, as he 
puts the sharp question, with almost insulting empha- 
sis upon “ Good Woman^' “ why does she remain upon 
the'stage ?” Madame De Sequeria who always resents 
this mood in King, bridles a little as she interrupts : 

“ Why does she remain upon the stage ? There are 
a hundred reasons why a woman adopts our profes- 
sion : you might ask why I put her under such man- 
agement as yours, and I should answer, she is ambi- 
tious ; so far she has been particularly fortunate, as 
in this instance. How frequently a girl struggles on 
for years waiting for the opportunity which now ap- 
parently is Judith Kent’s.’’ 

John King commences characteristically to gnaw 
the end of his moustache as he deliberates this point. 

“Yes, without doubt she will do.” A serious, al- 
most a sad expression comes into his eyes as he adds : 
“ I think you may trust me ” 

There is a little solemn pause broken by a merry 
voice, calling from without, “ Oh, please, isn’t this 
mysterious council of ten over yet ?” 

“Yes, dear! you may come.” As Judith enters, 
Madame takes the girl’s face tenderly in her hands. 
“ And it is decided in your favor.” She kisses her. 

For a moment the girl stands a little breathless 
with excitement, then without a word she stretches 
out both hands to King. He takes them, saying, I 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


69 


wish you joy and happiness in the engagement.” 
And so after a brief business transaction between 
them he bade the ladies farewell. 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ Cannot secure Miss Kent for three weeks, have 
sent on Bob,” was the wire John King sent to 
Savelli. 

Now Bob and “ Anne of Austria,” hardly seem 
synonymous terms ; however. Bob, who shall be 
nameless other than Bob, had played through re- 
pertoire after repertoire ; everything was at her 
finger’s end or concealed in the vast spaces of her 
brain. She had retired from the stage and a position 
as professional beauty (although the Broadway shops 
still exhibit her photographs), to run a chicken farm a 
little way out of New York. When, however a star 
found himself in want of a leading woman tempo- 
rarily, Bob was in demand. She was always welcomed 
with open arms, because the comfort of others was of 
more interest to her than anything else, bless her ! 

The boys were her worshipers, one and all, and 
many a star who only breathed freely whon Bob was 
in the leading roles, wished with heart and soul that 
she had more vanity, and less fondness for chickens ; 
but Bob was a born farmer, who had never been able 
to follow the natural bent of her mind until the last 
two years. Acting and professional beautyism were 
not in her line ; the chicks were. 

The day of Bob’s departure. King had entered the 
hotel, when a boy approached and handed hini a card, 
It was Judith Kent’s. 


70 


JOHN KING, MANAGER, 


“ So she has arrived,” and an almost boyish bright- 
ness beamed in his face as he presented himself to 
her. 

“ And now shall I take you to the maestro ?” King 
inquired, after the usual pleasant questions had been 
asked in regard to her journey. 

“You may present me to the maestro,” she ac- 
quiesced ; “ I shall be outwardly charmed, but secretly 
frightened.” 

“ There is surely nothing to be frightened about ; 
he is remarkably gentle and kind, at least outside the 
theatre,” King replied. 

“ I shall look to you for protection,” Judith Kent 
smiled as she slipped into her jaunty seal coat, 
touched the pretty wavy hair, smiled pleasantly at 
her reflection in the mirror, and then said : “ There I 
think I am ready,” so they went out together. 

“ Do you speak Italian King asked. 

“ Not at such a time as this,” Judith Kent replies 
as they arrive at Savelli’s door. 

A pleasant, deep-toned voice bade them enter. 

Judith Kent never forgot her first impression of this 
man. To her Savelli looked like some Greek god, 
with his majestic figure drawn to its full height, his 
classical head covered with thick, black curls, and his 
eyes, the most wonderful eyes that ever magnetized 
an audience, turned slightly upwards, suggested tra- 
gedy instead of the jolly, rollicking “ D’Artagnan,” 
the only role in which Judith Kent had ever seen him. 
There was about him the haughty dominance of a 
king, combined with noble generosity and rare good 
fellowship ; of commanding presence, pure and noble 
character, he was a figure to pose in heroic action, 
and an ideal situation. 

“Allow me to introduce Miss Kent, Mr. Savelli.” 
There was an honest pride in John King’s voice as he 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 71 

presented Judith Kent, and he added, in order to put 
the girl at her ease, “ She is afraid of you, Sandro.” 

“Afraid! afraid!” Savelli repeats, and laughs 
genially. “ But she must not be afraid, and of what, 
of what ?” and he laughs again. 

At the spectacle of these two men enjoying her 
confusion, Judith Kent glances imploringly at King. 

“ It is not fair,” she says at last, with a charmingly 
pathetic look in her eyes. 

“Ah ! there, we must not tease you. King, you 
will find, Miss Kent, believes but little in women ; 
he is most ungallant in fact in his opinion of your 
sex.” 

“ I protest, Savelli, my beliefs and disbeliefs are my 
own private property, I do not take them out. Miss 
Kent, on public parade.” 

“ Neither do I, Mr. King,” replied Judith, cau- 
tiously, “but I sometimes share my convictions with 
my friends.” 

“ Such a partnership would bring about a division 
of opinion. Your friends will borrow somewhat from 
you, and you will resign something to share their 
convictions. Such a communism of ideas would 
eventually destroy the charm of individuality.” 

“ Ah !” responded Judith, with merry sarcasm, as 
she prepared to defend herself, “ I have at last dis- 
covered why some people are so choice of their con- 
fidence, Mr. King. They have not sufficient con- 
tinuity of thought to hold themselves together under 
adverse opinion.” 

“ Let us talk of the new roles,” requests Savelli, as 
he remarked how steadily John King stood regard- 
ing his lovely antagonist. 

“ Yes indeed !” Judith replies. “ Mr. King is not 
included in the new roles ?” she asks, with a minor 
quaHty’ in her voice. 


72 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


“ No ; we shall dispense with his presence alto- 
gether,” with which Savelli glances up smilingly. 

“ Good-bye, King, we will see you at dinner.” King 
closes the door leaving Savelli and Judith Kent 
together. A feeling of freshness, a new life pervades 
him ; it is like spring, the atmosphere this girl 
brings with her ; he is at home once more vrith 
the birds singing in the orchard ; the yellow crocuses 
are in bloom, and tiny blades of grass are peeping out 
of the warm brown earth : he hears his mother’s voice 
repeating the soft “ Thee ” and “ Thou,” and all the 
world is fresh and young. 

While dressing for dinner, he finds himself singing 
Rubenstein’s “ Thou art like unto a flower he hums 
it as he goes down to dinner to find Judith Kent per- 
fectly at ease continuing a bright, animated conver- 
sation with Savelli. 

“ Miss Kent is a pupil of Senac’s, King,” Savelli re- 
marks, as King seats himself, with a graceful bow, at 
the table. 

“Yes ?” King interrogates, “ And can she fence ?” 

“Can she fence?” laughs Savelli, “Well, we will 
see to-morrow ; before rehearsal you may come in 
and judge for yourself.” 

“ Mr. Savelli is very kind,” says Judith, with a 
touch of young ladyish stiffness in the speech. “ I 
fear I have forgotten a great deal, and Mr. Savelli 
was good enough to offer me assistance in freshen- 
ing my memory a bit. It is excellent exercise. Do 
you fence, Mr. King ?” 

“ King has no accomplishments in any of the 
manly arts. Miss Kent,” Savelli explains. 

Judith Kent notices how frequently Savelli adopts 
the light tone of banter toward King, as though he 
sought to withdraw him from his characteristic re- 
serve. They are now joined by a few more pleasant 
members, of what appears to Judith to be a very 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


73 


delightful company. As it is Sunday, and there is no 
performance, they sit chatting and eating, until some 
one realized that it is nearly ten o’clock ; with many 
pleasant words to Judith, who has made a decided 
impression upon them all, they separate. 

Judith Kent’s feelings toward King is still difficult 
to analyze. She finds herself both attracted and re- 
pelled. She falls asleep at length, to dream that two 
strong arms are drawing her down, down, down toward 
unfathomable depths. She awakes in a cold perspira- 
tion, breathing with difficulty, with a vague impres- 
sion that although she saw no face in her dream, the 
hands were white and delicate, yet a man’s hands, and 
not unlike John King’s. 


CHAPTER VII. 

ANDRE DORISe. 

In accordance with the plans of the management, 
the company en route for Denver arrived there on 
the 26th of March. Judith was in a bad humor and 
showed it, as she did all of her variable moods. She 
was a morbidly sensitive creature, so that every cir- 
cumstance of life wrought some powerful change in 
her feelings, that produced a corresponding physical 
effect. It had been her misfortune to occupy a berth 
just opposite to Andre Doree, a member of the com- 
pany, and to witness a little by-play between that 
young woman and a certain gentleman who followed 
the company like some sort of an illegal attache ; 
this had made Judith uncomfortable for the entire 
night. 

“ (Shall I never become accustomed to it ?” con;» 


74 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


plained the poor girl, bitterly, as she clasped her 
hands across her tired eyes. “ Ah, my God ! these 
fool women !” 

All night long the fair companion of her weary 
speculations fretted upon her restless pillow ; and in 
the morning, when Judith looked she discovered that 
the girl’s eyelids were red and blistered with the hot 
rain of grief that had poured steadily from a breaking 
heart through a night of suppressed anguish. 

Judith did not approve Doree, having recognized 
her as one of the attachees of the stage whose position 
has been purchased for the convenience of a lover, 
who is willing to pay a considerable price for the 
public display of his fancy. In short, Andre Doree 
was a woman with a price. She had always about 
her an air of mystery ; no one had the slightest 
knowledge of her early life. At present she was sur- 
rounded by every luxury, supplied by a rich Califor- 
nian. She had remained upon the stage simply as a 
pastime, and was as unfit for the companionship of 
Judith Kent as could well be imagined. The woman 
did not understand the distance between herself and 
this girl, conscious only of an embarrassed, uncomfort- 
able feeling when with her ; she attributed it to the 
girl’s inexperience. 

Andre Doree victorious was indifferent to the pru- 
dish notions of a woman who counted her odd change 
at night, and carefully considered the expenditure of 
their means as Judith did. One who might be hungry 
and cold to-morrow, on account of the turn of a man- 
ager’s fancy, or because one had stepped before the 
star in public favor. Andre Doree could see but one 
way for the women of the stage ; gold and the favor 
of men who held and compelled them as so many 
bonded slaves. Andre Doree never went hungry 
or cold. The indispensable luxuries of the parlor, 
the salon, the public parade and thp bed-chamber — ah^ 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


75 


if she had a grief, there it was concealed between the 
silk and linen of her couch. It was at least the beau- 
tiful grief of exquisite surroundings, not a poor, mis- 
erable sorrow of one apartment under the eaves. 
Andre Doree could not exist in the confined atmos- 
phere of poverty. She preferred the elegant wretch- 
edness of the heart to the more material wretchedness 
of the stomach. She could see but one way and took 
it, it might be a poor way, but there were meaner 
conditions. Andre Doree was a butterfly in the 
summer air. Her summer was short, winter was 
near ; yet she despised all conventional things which 
makes the stupid lives of what the world calls good 
women. 

As she brushes hack her bright hair, she observes 
that her eyelids are swollen and red. She has found 
in Paris a lotion with which heart-sick women doctor 
their eyes. She turns the contents of a vial upon a 
lace handkerchief and pats her eyelids softly with it, 
then dries them with a little dash of exquisitely 
scented powder. When she opens them again to take 
critical account of repairs, she seems to sense a near 
presence, and turns her head, with a vain, bird-like 
motion, to meet the serious and sorrowful look of 
Judith Kent. 

“ Mercy, child !” she exclaims with a dainty affec- 
tation of manner and speech, “ how tragic ; how ill 
you look !” 

“ Strange ! that I should display your life in my 
face, Andre Dorde !" Judith delivers this little 
speech with such a strong quiver of emotion, thrilling 
through her rich young voice ; Andre Doree is un- 
certain whether it expresses sympathy or contempt. 
As Judith leaves the car she stands with her bonnet 
in her hand staring after her half angrily. 

“A fine piece of impertinence !” she exclaims as 
she hears the station called for the second time, when 


76 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


she hurries her lovely head into her bonnet. Not- 
withstanding her vexation, the remark has impressed 
her, and she repeats it like a grieved child, while de- 
scending the steps of the car to meet once more the 
cause of her secret sorrow. No longer secret. She 
thinks of the ostrich which hides its head in the 
sand when the enemy pursues. This girl had heard 
last night, she knows, this Judith, that the plumage 
which makes life gay is being plucked at the heart. 

“ She looks* my life !” sighs Andre Doree, as she 
puts out her gloved hand to meet the clasp of her 
friend’s — so he is called ; her friend, and he is just 
now her bitterest enemy, at once her grape cup and 
her death cup. 

“ What ! Are you sad again, sweetheart ?” he in- 
quires. “ We are together, that surely should make 
you happy ; and what you will, Andre, as usual, if I 
may be counted among your luxuries.” 

As he delivers this speech, which is so stupid, she 
knows that he is not thinking about her at all. He 
hands her, with a great show of gallant attention, 
into a splendid coupe, looking about uneasily as he 
does so. He makes no move to take his accustomed 
place at her side, but stands, an elegant and hand- 
some figure before her, with his hat raised for fare- 
well. 

** Henri ! Henri !” she almost gasps the name, as 
she leans her poor, blanched face out of the carriage. 

“ You will come with me, will you not ?” 

At that moment Judith Kent passes the carriage 
in company with Savelli and John King. An ani- 
mated conversation is going on between them. Once 
more the eyes of the two women meet, and that pity- 
ing, half tragic expression of Judith’s face causes 
Andre Doree to draw herself up with a show of re- 
sentment toward Judith as she assumes an indiffer- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 77 

ence to the situation which she feels sure Miss Kent 
comprehends too well. 

She nods and smiles upon the manag;er as he stops 
for a moment by the carriage to exchange greetings 
with the gentleman addressed as Henri. 

“ King,” he says, hurriedly, as he catches a glimpse 
of a petite figure moving slowly down the platform 
of the station; “Will you do me the favor to ac- 
company Miss Doree to Brown’s Palace 

King hesitates a moment, as he had set himself an- 
other task, of looking after Miss Kent, a slight labor of 
interest. He regarded Judith somewhat in the light 
of a new toy with which to relieve the tedium of a 
dry, business experience, one of the exciting details 
of it, in fact. It gave some interest to the chase that 
the proposed victim could not be coaxed, impressed 
and enticed by the usual means, but must be pursued 
and overcome. 

Judith looks back indifferently and decides the case 
by taking a carriage in company with Savelli. 

The next moment John King is whirled along the 
same road in company with Andre Doree. The un- 
fortunate young woman at his side has so far per- 
fected herself in the power of self-control she is 
enabled to keep up a brilliant show of happiness as 
falsely simulated as her heartless smiles. She says 
many witty things, which makes the drive rather a 
pleasant one for the manager, who looks for nothing 
better than entertainment in his association with 
women. 

In the meantime, Savelli and Judith Kent, whom 
the young actor admires greatly, chatted together 
concerning those themes which appeared most im- 
portant to them. 

“ Yonder,” said Savelli, is Pike’s Peak ; have you 
ever been in Denver before. Miss Kent ?” The young 
actor sat slightly leaning forward with his hands 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


78 

Upon his knees, looking up at the range of mountains, 
with their crowning eminence so suggestive of the life 
he sought to live ; cold, immaculate, and lofty, glow- 
ing with the fires of a splendid genius which should 
dazzle, and raise the eyes of the world to an impres- 
sive contemplation of the majestic achievements of 
man in the world of art. 

Judith, who was always womanly and sympathetic, 
read his thoughts, and answered them instinctively. 

Mr. Savelli, if I was as sure as you are, of reach- 
ing that sunlit peak, I could endure with more 
courage, and struggle with greater fortitude to reach a 
point above the world, where all the summer flowers 
are dead, and life is as cold as it is grand and lofty, 
and isolated. It is my desire, it is perhaps, my impos- 
sible dream,’' she concluded, with pathetic enthu- 
siasm. 

Savelli turned his glowing and wonderful eyes upon 
Judith’s delicate, spiritual face, whose every lineament 
seemed tremulous with emotion. 

“ Ah, my dear ! how can I be sure of such attain- 
ment ? time has more than one sickle to cut off a 
man’s earthly career,” then smiling at some inner re- 
flection concerning himself, which he wished to have 
verified by her : “ Tell me. Miss Kent, do you sub- 
scribe to the plaudits of the press ; do you think my 
performances great conceptions ?” 

“ Whether I speak from judgment, or from some 
subtle sympathy with you and your work, I do not 
know ; but to me you are marvelous at times.” 

“Only at times, then ?” queried Savelli, a little dis- 
appointed at the girl’s innocent candor. She saw that 
she had made a mistake ; the lion must not be 
punched, he must be fed. 

“ Pardon my boldness ; my inexperience,” she 
pleaded with such pretty grace, as she touched his 
hand lightly, with the tips of her fingers, her face suf- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 79 

fused with conscious color, and her great hazel eyes 
filling with tears. 

“ Rather than that I should make such bad speeches 
to you, Mr. Savelli, please tell me if I may hope to 
have my moderate ambition gratified. I do not 
expect, of course, to be Savelli, but I would like to 
become Judith Kent. Just now Judith Kent is only 
a dream. If Judith Kent is only the bead on the top 
of the bumper, if the real depths are beneath her and 
the real heights beyond her, why the sooner she is 
smacked off by the lips of old Father Time the better 
for Judith Kent and the world generally ; but I do 
assure you,” she went on breathlessly, “ that Judith 
Kent has her ambitions to do something worthy of 
the gift of life.” 

“ Are you religious. Miss Kent ?” inquired Savelli, 
“ pardon me, I will answer the other question 
later on.” 

“ Well that depends, perhaps, on what you would 
consider to be religious.” 

“ Perhaps I have not given sufficient thought to the 
subject to define my own convictions, but I should 
say it was subscribing to the Church creed.” 

“What church?” inquired Judith, still looking at 
him with her frank, searching eyes, and a little 
straight line of puzzled inquiry drawn between her 
brows. 

“ Mercy, Miss Kent !” laughs Savelli, “ I cry for 
quarter. I am only too glad to take up the other sub- 
ject. I will say that I have studied you both on and 
off the stage ; and during your performances with 
me, I have found you insecure. I do not think that 
you have the temperament which can endure expos- 
ure to drudgery and the discouraging, I might almost 
say, the disgusting details of onr profession. At 
times, when the conditions are right you do splendid 


8o 


JOHN KING, MANAGER* 


work ; you are then truly remarkable ; and again, you 
are disappointing. You depend so entirely upon 
your inner life, you are like a flash of electricity, but 
sometimes the circuit gets broken, and no amount of 
forcing will then produce the necessary fire. You are 
like a watch, with works so fine, although perfectly 
adjusted, that it gets easily disordered. With judg- 
ment to accept, an appropriate discipline, and a 
will to pursue any particular line of work you adopt, 
you agree to give the time correctly, but the manage- 
ment will pick you up one night when the hour is 
most important to you both, and find your life motion- 
less, your hands idle. He will look inside to discover 
that the mainspring is broken, and both are ruined. 
Do you understand, Miss Kent ? I have been as frank 
with you as I would be with my own sister ; you are 
too thoroughly a proud, pure, sensitive woman, to 
ever become a great and successful actress.” 

“ Oh, dear !” half sobbed Judith, “ I feel as though 
I was going to die ; with this knell to my hopes ring- 
ing in my ears, how will it ever be possible for me 
to appear with credit this evening ?” 

The tears dropped so fast from her thick lashes, 
that she pressed her handkerchief against her veil. 
They had now reached the door of the hotel, and both 
dismounted at the same moment that John King and 
Andre Dor^e arrived. There is the disgusting part 
of the profession,” complained Judith, fretfully, with 
a contemptuous glance in the direction of Miss Dorde ; 
“ at least, I have some reserve of self-respect. I am 
not a fool, thank God ! and I hate women who are !” 

“ What is the trouble with Miss Doree?” asks Savelli, 
“ I notice you do not seem to get on well together.” 

At this remark, Judith grew red, and full of just 
wrath, to think that Savelli should utter her name in 
the same breath with Dorde's. It seemed an insult to 


JOHN KINC MANAGER. 8 1 

her honest womanhood she could not peaceably 
endure. 

“ Mr. Savelli she paused in the middle of her 
speech, aware that it was not becoming to discuss 
Miss Doree’s character on the ground of self-defense. 
She turned sharply away from her companions, and 
walked proudly before them into the hotel. 

Later Savelli taxed King with the same question 
he had asked Judith. 

“ What is the trouble with Miss Doree, King ? 
Miss Kent seemed greatly offended this morning 
when I spoke to her.” 

King frowned under the shadow of his hat. “ They 
are a pretty little nest of kittens, who must in their 
frolics together, get mad and scratch each other, I 
suppose.” 

The opening night in Denver found John King in 
the best of humors. Savelli was, perhaps, the most 
popular attraction that visited the city, and King 
gazed with much satisfaction over the crowded 
house. In immacuh^.te evening dress he had smiled 
upon newspaper people and a few society friends ; 
as the orchestra rang in he made his way to Savelli’s 
dressing-room. Savelli was putting the last touches 
to the pale, pathetic visage of Ruy Bias. The mir- 
ror reflected the eyes downcast, sombre. Without 
turning he asserted rather than interrogated : “ Good 
house. King?” 

“Splendid,” John King responded, briefly. 

“ Kent ought to impress them,” Savelli continued, 
as he arose from his chair ; then, in reply to the in- 
quiry of the stage manager as to whether he was 
ready, he answered : “ All right, Hastings, ring up.” 

“ I think she will,” King rejoined, while Savelli 
hurried to the stage, and in response to the cue : 
“ Ruy— Ruy — Ruy Bias,” made his entrance ’mid a 
tumult of applause. 

King left Savelli’s room and walked down the 


82 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


passageway ; stopping at the farther end he knocked 
at a door. The voice of Andre Doree bade him 
enter. King noticed there were traces of something 
more than vexation upon her face. Something which 
made the hard lines visible even beneath the make- 
up. The assumed tone, the sparkling eyes, and the 
pretty, quick gestures, only made it appear more 
ghastly to one who understood. As King accepted 
the invitation to be seated, Andre Doree turned to 
put the finishing touches to her make-up. 

After r moment’s silence she asked, with an unsuc- 
cessful attempt to treat the matter lightly, “ Is Henri 
here ?” 

King sits in a negligent attitude, watching the 
world-tired and weary face curiously. His ear catches 
and defines the tremulous accent of doubt that betrays 
a hint of tears in her voice. 

“ No, he is not,” he replies, much as a vivisectionist 
would have made a passionless thrust of the knife. 

The woman catches her breath sharply between 
her teeth as she averts her head. King smiles cyni- 
cally, he is evidently in an unpleasant frame of mind. 

“Not quarreled, I hope, Andre ?” he inquires, “or 
perhaps there is another 

As he says this, he studies the expression of life and 
feeling in the woman’s face. He does not really be- 
lieve that it will hurt her, he has no faith in women ; 
he believes that she will shrug up her pretty shoul- 
ders, just now gleaming white as ivory above her low 
corsage, pout her pretty lips, shed a few tears, and 
console herself to-morrow with another. “ Ah, God !” 
he thinks to himself, “ how heart sickening it all is, this 
splendid show of sweet life in a woman, and its hol- 
lowness, its false depths.” He is surprised by the 
effect of his words ; the woman wheels suddenly upon 
him with a passion of a tigress in her face. 

John King is saved from a rather embarrasing po- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


83 


Sition by a knock at the door. Upon opening it, a 
messenger boy enters, bearing a great box of flowers. 

In childish delight Andre Doree claps her hands, as 
King unwraps the flowers. 

Undoubtedly,” Doree thinks, as the superb Ameri- 
can Beauties are taken carefully out by King, “he 
has sent some message with the flowers.” She eagerly 
snatches the card which King passes her, it reads 
simply, “ compliments of Henri !” “ Cruel, cruel,” 
she mutters beneath her breath. 

“They are beautiful!” John King says as he 
arranges them with an appreciative care he displays 
toward all flowers, excepting white lilies. There is no 
reply from Andre as she leaves the room to go upon 
the stage. John King, his task completed, stands 
back to view the effect ; his eyes grow critical and he 
twirls a corner of his moustache for a moment ; in this 
contemplative attitude, he is interrupted by a voice 
at his elbow asking, “ Admiring my flowers, hey ?” 

He turns to find Henri standing there. 

“Yes,” King replies. 

“ Miss Doree is on the stage ?” the man interro- 
gates, 

“ But she will be with you in a moment ; the act is 
nearly over.” King bows courteously as he leaves 
the room. 

“ Yes, I think the act is nearly over !” smiles Henri, 
as he picks up one of his roses and pins it in the but- 
ton-hole of his coat ; he looks at himself in the mir- 
ror ; twists the waxed end of his moustache, and be- 
gins to turn over the trinkets of the dressing table. 

“ I wonder what the closing scene v/ill be ? These 
women sometimes kick up a devil of a rumpus. 

“ Ah, there she is, ma petite ! She has pretty little 
tricks that tickle a man’s blood, the sly little witch ! 
and it is a damned shame ! but the governor would 
cut me off without a sou, if I dared to marry her.” 


84 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


There is a sound of light footsteps down the pas- 
sage, and rustle of skirts, as the door is softly opened, 
when Doree throws herself into his arms, crying, 
“ Henri ! Henri ! I am so glad ! I am so glad ! I 
thought you had forgotten !” 

“ No, I had not forgotten,” the man replies. The 
woman’s lips press his passionately. “ Dear, don’t 
think me foolish ; but I have been so wildly, miser- 
ably jealous ; and there was no cause, no cause what- 
ever, was there ?” she queries eagerly. 

No, indeed !” he lies coolly, but turns his hand- 
some head from her ; it is more than difficult to meet 
her searching glance. 

“ Open the door, dear,” he suggested, hoping to 
divert her attention. The room is warm.” As she 
moves to comply with his request. King and Miss 
Kent are passing, and in her momentary, fleeting 
happiness, she feels a kindliness toward the whole 
world. 

“ Come in and rest a moment. Miss Kent,” she 
urged, and then added : “ Enter the King and the 

Queen, and I will crown you with roses. No,” as 
Judith and King have accepted her invitation — Judith 
with more, than a slight misgiving — “ the King shall 
crown you ; what do you say to that ? You have not 
met my friend. Miss Kent? let me make you ac- 
quainted.” After they have been properly introduced 
she assumes her most bewitching air as hostess, as she 
continues : “ There you are King,” and passes him a 
handful of roses. 

King glances into Judith Kent’s eyes with an 
amused smile. 

Do you agree. Miss Kent ?” There is a clamor 
from Henri and Andre, that she must agree. 

‘‘ It seems too much like anticipating what I would 
become, Mr. King.** 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 8$ 

Without changing his position or desisting from his 
pretty labor, King glanced up interrogatively. 

“ A victor, not a queen,” she explained, with an air 
of pride and coldness. 

“Surely !” he responded, with an expression of 
pleasant amusement lighting his grave features, “ you 
will allow me then in compliment to place upon your 
regal young brow the sign of my approbation and be- 
lief in your future greatness.” 

To her sensitive ear the tone and character of this 
speech betrayed a cynical disbelief in her claim. 
With the straight mark of displeasure appearing be- 
tween her delicate brows, she betrayed his power to 
irritate her by the shortness of her bitter reply. 

“Your praise would have to be earned like my 
bread, Mr. King, and both, I fear, would come scan- 
tily, if one was dependent on the other.” With which 
the offended young actress would have left the dress- 
ing-room, where the moral atmosphere seemed to 
stifle the free exercise of the sweet qualities of her 
nature ; but — 

“ Wait a moment,” interrupted King. “ I wish to 
speak to you. Miss Kent, when I have finished the 
crown, and cast my offering at your feet ; you are 
surely too kind, I think, not to stoop a little.” 

He laughed with such an expression of good humor, 
that Judith hesitated a moment, smiling, as she leaned 
against the open door, while Andre Doree, who looked 
precisely like a dainty wax woman, into whom God 
had put a sweet, flashing soul, leaned forward toward 
her lover ; her eyes fixed on his, a sparkle with 
humor and happiness ; her white, jeweled arm thrown 
carelessly across his knee. 

“ Do you know,” she commenced — “ Do you know — 
I dreamed a dream last night ! to-day it has lived in 
my thoughts : It was, that I was a Princess, with a 
white marble palace upon the shore of the Mediter- 


86 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


anean/' The hands of Andre Dorde, so expressive 
of luxury, waved about in flashing gestures. 

“ I would have " — she passes her hand across her 
brow — “ ah, let me see, yes ” — At first she speaks 
with hesitation as she endeavors to gather the frag- 
ments of her dream. “ The long, broad walks are 
shaded by palms ” — here she pauses. “ You can 
smell the fragrance of the cinnamon and orange flow- 
ers, oh, but you can, Mr. King,” as that gentleman 
shrugs his shoulder. “ The odor is heavier than the 
roses you have in your hands,” and she laughs mer- 
rily. “ You can hear the soft play of the fountains — 
no ” — as King is about to speak — “ it is not audible 
to your ears, Mr. King, because — there. Miss Kent, 
do a deed of charity, Mr. King seized that rose by the 
stem, a wounded finger demands your attention.” 
She looks at Judith, who takes no notice of the re- 
mark, haughtily retaining her position by the door. 
King declares it is nothing, while Andre asks, “ Where 
was I ? oh, yes, I remember.” The little human but- 
terfly having once stretched her wings to the gauzy 
air of fancy, felt the stimulus of her own whimsical 
mood as it commenced to operate upon her listeners. 
“ Bright birds,” she continues, “ flit across a sky of 
sapphire blue at this point she adopts a listening 
poise. “ There is the soft distant roll of the waves, 
and the song of my gondoliers.” She drops her at- 
titude of attention and glances at the faces of her 
audience. It was like the fizz of so much champagne, 
to see them all attentive and eager. She lived by the 
beat of human hearts and the tide must ever flow her 
way.“ I would have slaves,” she continued, in a tyran- 
nical, commanding tone ; rising as she speaks, she 
stamps a dainty foot upon the floor imperiously. 
Surely a most despotic princess her listeners think. 
Henri winces a little as he realizes how far that air of 
despotism could be carried, if put to the test 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 87 

Clasping her hands above her head, she takes a few 
turns up and down the room. 

“ You are there, Henri ?” and she cast toward him 
a look of tormenting witchery. 

‘‘A slave?” he asks, while Judith and King 
exchange glances ; both feel the spell this woman 
casts about her by these flashes of poetical imagina- 
tion. 

“ Nay ! nay !” and she seats herself once more at 
the man’s feet. “ Not a slave ; my prince,” and she 
touches his hand with the very tips of her fingers ; 

but listen,” her eyes grow earnest with deep feeling, 
as her imagination becomes more vivid, “ there is a 
room of malachite beyond the onyx hall ; from the 
ceiling hang jeweled lamps suspended by chains of 
gold.” She smiles, feeling the touch of caressing 
fingers upon her hair. Soft velvet couches, luxurious 
chairs, rare tropical plants fill the apartments ; all is 
sensous, dream-like,” as she ends the sentence the 
woman’s face is a study, the hard lines have disap- 
peared ; the eyes are far seeing like a child’s. Judith 
felt at that moment she could love and teach her 
better things. 

Andre intuitively realizes the charm she is impart- 
ing, as she continues in a soft, musical voice, that is 
like the muifled chime of silver bells. 

“ At night when all the slaves have crept to rest,” 
she bows her head slightly, “ wait for me in the room 
of mal,achite, my prince ; I will come to you clad in a 
robe made of a million silver links, she lifts her face 
to her lover’s, “ I raise my hand to my right shoulder,” 
see Henri, “ablaze of light radiates from every link ; 
I stand before you like some mythical goddess, when 
suddenly I raise my hand to my left shoulder there 
she pauses, Judith’s frank eyes are fixed upon her. 
King is busy with the wreath, but listening ; Henri 
smiles while watching this sybarite, thispleasure-lov- 


88 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


ing" woman. There is a breathless silence as she 
sends forth a flashing glance from beneath her golden 
lashes, “ and then !” she laughs recklessly, ‘‘ and 
then — whereupon she drops her face upon Henri’s 
knee. 

‘‘ That is my cue I think,” says Judith Kent sharply, 
as she leaves the room with a scornful glance at the 
bowed head of Andre. John King drops the roses 
and follows Miss Kent. 

As he closes the door behind him, the passionate 
face of the woman, as sweet and delicate as a flower, 
is raised to the embrace of her lover, who bends 
fondly down to whisper : “ My sweetheart !” 

Despite Judith’s fear concerning the opening night, 
the .scene in the dressing-room had served to rouse a 
sort of a fire in her spirit calculated to withdraw her 
thoughts from her self. Situations like these always 
had the effect of bringing her own character into 
sharp contrast with those whom she regarded as 
occupying a lower plane, and while she experienced 
both the pain of disappointment for them, and the 
sympathy of a gentle womanly nature, there were 
other elements which wrought for self-righteousness 
in her. 

She had a sort of fiery and grand contempt for that 
which rang false, or was less true and noble than her- 
self. 

Fortunately for her temper she did not see all the 
evil of life ; in fact, it was not what she sought to 
know, and consequently she never beheld it until it was 
forced upon her recognition. Then she was inclined 
to be bitter and cynical, as if to her was delegated 
the office of searcher and avenger. 

Her mind had that charm of unripeness which dis- 
played at once youthful folly and indecision, in con- 
nection with rare judgment and decision. Her char- 
acter was marked by that transition from girlhood 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


89 


to womanhood which prophesied great qualities when 
experience had tested her strength and settled her 
opinions. 

With an air of lofty dignity with which she felt 
herself for the time invested, she went through the 
acts of the play before thousands of spectators, with 
an appreciation of every little detail of movement 
and expression that won the applause of the house 
and divided the honors of the evening. 

But like all mercurial and emotional beings, when 
the curtain rang down and she stood in the semi- 
darkness of the great stage where she had been 
called by a final encore, the light and music and 
movement seemed to vanish suddenly from her own 
young, fresh, impulsive life. She stood for a moment 
alone, hearing the dull murmur and push of the de- 
parting audience and, floating through one of the 
wings from Andre Doree’s dressing-room, the sweet, 
happy laugh of the child woman, who was once again 
consoled by the tenderness of her lover. 

Something ached in the desolate young heart flung 
out to the world without a protecting arm or any 
close particular love. The woman in her felt weak ; 
she longed for a moment to cast herself down even 
as this Dor^e had done, if in the fall she might find 
the broad bosom like a shield and the true heart like 
a citadel. 

With the great shining folds of her brown hair fall- 
ing loosely about her delicate face, she stood thus 
pensively meditating ; her head bent down, her richly 
robed and elegant figure, like some glowing and 
glorious basrelief cut against the shadowy background 
of the gorgeous stage scenery, as Alessandro and 
John King came by different entrances upon the 
stage, at the same moment. 

John King, cold, grave, dignified ; with a crown of 
yellow roses in his hand ; Alessandro with his fac^ 


90 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


shining, his eyes full of passionate fire, his hands 
warmly outstretched. With that morbid revulsion 
of feeling which occurs when the overstrained ten- 
sion of our nerves gives way, and everything gets so 
distorted as to present terrifying visions of life, that 
but yesterday was as a butterfly in the air, a flower 
in the sunshine, Judith saw only Alessandro descend- 
ing upon her night, like some great and glowing 
planet. Without reason, excepting a sudden rush of 
girlish confidence in something more strong and 
steady than herself, she flung herself like a passion- 
ate and tired child, into his outstretched arms. 
Ashamed, but too overcome to control herself, she 
pressed her white face against his shoulder sobbing 
hysterically. The young Italian, whom God had so 
nobly gifted with true instincts and refined sensi- 
bilities, understood that the trembling figure he so 
tenderly supported against his bosom was racked by 
tired nerves. It was not herself quite, but the de- 
pressing influence and natural revulsion which occurs 
often after intense excitement. In his large, and 
tender manliness he treated her as a weary child. It 
gave Alessandro a place in Judith’s estimation no 
man had ever held before. 

“ You are tired, my dear,” he said very gently, but 
I can scarce regret it, since you trust me so much and 
will never again be afraid of me — no, do not try to 
talk just yet — you will be better in a few minutes, 
and the breast of Ruy Bias will have been richly 
pearled by the tears of a sweet woman.” 

All the time he was talking he kept one arm about 
her waist, as he passed his disengaged hand gently 
across her hair ; his head bent down to her until his 
beautiful black curls mingled with the soft fluff of 
her brown, hair. 

To John King this scene, which he could but wit- 
ness, bore a false import that excited all the bitterest 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


91 


impulses of his nature. It was like a flash-light of 
memory, presenting Alice Beecham and Paul Astor, 
when he had been for the first time a witness to a 
man’s successful love making, where his own heart’s 
interest was so deeply concerned. He had come 
upon the stage with a pretty compliment upon his 
lips, and the becoming gift of a crown to greet the 
victorious actress, only to find Alessandro’ before 
him, and preferred. He turned contemptuously about, 
flung the crown upon the floor, purposely trampling 
out the delicate life of the flowers with which he had 
intended to honor Judith, as both moody and angry 
he left the theatre. 

With Eileen his love nature had flowed without hin- 
drance and ebbed without storm from a barren shore. 
He had derived little except pastime, and experienced 
no pain other than that overflow of sympathy for the 
fancied misery of a woman who seemed to him unfit 
for any other use than that of trifling. 

Often since, women had offered themselves for his 
pleasure, and he had been sensible enough to hold the 
reins a little tighter over the lower impulses of his 
nature, because the little, tender love making he gave 
and they offered, suffered such comparison with other 
scenes and possibilities which engaged his mind, he 
did not consider the complication worth the trouble it 
cost to break the tie. He supposed the scene he had 
just left in the theatre, of Judith Kent in the arms of 
Alessandro, pained him only because it placed the 
girl on the level with Doree and all the rest of her 
false, flippant sex ; whereas, he had hoped something 
better for her, and it had served to bring the old 
withering, deadly, but delightful fascination for his 
cousin Alice too strongly to his present recognition. 

As he was ascending the stairs of the hotel, he 
heard the sharp clatter of heels upon the marble be- 
low, accompanied by the merry voice of Dorde and 


92 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


the young lover Henri. He did not turn his head but 
went straight on to his own room. 

He threw off his coat and hat, took his cigar be- 
tween his lips, seated himself by the window, raised 
his feet to the window ledge, where he sat with his 
square head and well-knit figure pressed in to the 
spongy back of the chair. His face was pale and a 
little grieved in its sternness ; his eyelids narrowed 
to a line, through which his eyes shone with a steady, 
almost malignant fire. He sat thus through the long 
night doing battle with a desire which prompted him 
to consider the possibility of a baser course than he 
had ever yet pursued. When the morning broke, he 
gave up the battle to the nobler impulses of his nature. 
The angel had not pled in vain. But with surrender 
he grew limp and wretched ; he knew better than 
most men the physical cost of denial to what was so 
strong in his corrupted manhood. He flung himself 
face downward upon a couch in the room. 

“ Curse them !” he muttered. “ My love of woman 
and the devil in them is in danger of sending me to 
hell !’' 

It happened that Judith Kent found herself sud- 
denly presented to John King at the breakfast table 
that morning. She looked at him, with her frank, 
sweet eyes full of kindly interest, and a pleasant 
speech trembling on her lips. But the manager met 
her glance with one so cold, even contemptuous, Ju- 
dith shrank from him visibly. 

“Would you like this seat, Miss Kent ?” he asked, 
with marked reserve, as he placed the chair for her, 
then walked deliberately away to another table, Not 
being accustomed to unkind treatment, Judith sat 
with her cheeks aflame with angry resentment staring 
after him. 

“ It was so disrespectful, so ungentlemanly for him 
to act that way,” she thought. 


93 


John king, Manager. 

“ Ch, yes,” to the waiter who had twice addressed 
her, “ bring me anything you like — I mean,” she inter- 
rupted as she recovered her senses, “ I would like a 
chop and some tea, if you please. Not coffee — tea 
this morning.” 

Then she changed her seat with a foolish display 
of real girlish pique ; she sat with her back to the 
manager, so that he could not by any possible means 
get a glimpse of her face. 

Although Judith made a decided hit in Denver, 
John King yet maintained his air of offensive cold- 
ness. The occasion certainly called for some recog- 
nition of her success on his part, but from him she 
received no word of commendation. 

She often saw him in the audience watching her 
when on the stage, and there was always something 
so caustic and sinister in his face, so scornful in the 
strong, penetrating eyes fixed upon her, the hot blood 
seemed to blister her cheeks with angry defiance. 

Notwithstanding the manager’s apathy, both she 
and Savelli were entertained as much as their profes- 
sional duties would permit. There were times when 
she felt that John King was doing double duty as 
showman for both. 

After rehearsal on the day following the little 
scene in the dressing-room, Judith occupied herself 
with writing to Madame De Sequeria, she having re- 
ceived a bright, and witty epistle from that lady, in 
which Madame De Sequeria had set forth her travels 
and adventures in a most ridiculous light. But 
Madame always did see the ridiculous side of every- 
thing. She made life so delightful with her humors, 
and often, in her freaks, afforded a most charming 
representation of them in her own person and be- 
havior. 

She took up Madame’s letter. It ran on recklessly 
as follows : 


94 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


‘‘ Dear Judith : — Why do I not get a better ac- 
count of your doings ? You talk lovely, my dear, but 
you write wretchedly, for so learned and accom- 
plished a young person. Were you taking steps 
when you penned me the last unreadable ? It was so 
jigged and uphill, even to the address, that I vowed 
nothing but perpetual motion of the entire body could 
produce such effect in ink. You may pout, Judith, as 
much as you like, but you deserve it, for your bad 
treatment of me. 

“ Let me tell you, we have a tyrant for a manager, 
who likes to see people get on under all sorts of im- 
possible conditions ; for example : the other night 
my splendid gown was ruined ; you would say, you 
dear, sweet, unsuspicious child ! it was the inclem- 
ency of the weather, but I am an old stager dear, 
and know better. Who ever really knew inclement 
weather to get through the brass and iron precaution 
of an old stager’s trunk ? I got acquainted with the 
weather a good many years ago, how many I should 
not like to tell, Judith ; but I got acquainted with the 
manager only last month, and he has done more than 
all the weather created since the world wheeled under 
the sun, to ruin my gowns. 

“ Actually opened my trunk — surreptitiously on the 
road and poured in bucketfuls of water — to the great 
detriment of Emilia, who had to be taken out and 
pulled into shape, and dried under sore difficulties 
before the dressing-room fire. 

“Then the star is not too brilliant or amiable, 
wanted me to do a soubrette part the other night in 
short skirts, and, dear Judith, I had left my elegant 
legs in Chicago. I sent back word I could not, as I 
had no legs for the part, but the beast roared at me 
in the most furious rage I ever witnessed, and swore 
that I should go on, legs or no legs. So I went with- 
out my legs, but drowned in a copious flood of tears. 


John king, manager. 


vSometimes they both get drunk, the star and the 
manager together, then there are some things which 
move to a lively tune outside of the show. Oh, I 
pause right here, Judith, I cannot pursue the tale of 
woe I am, going to Paris in the spring, what say you, 
ma chlre to a trip across the ocean ?” 

Judith proceeded to answer this epistle. 

“ My Darling Madame De Sequeria : — I will try 
to write straight ; it is so much less difficult than 
living on a straight line, I surely should guide my pen 
with half the skill that I manage my conduct. You 
will want first to know about Alessandro Savelli, and 
I will say that my appearance with him has been 
most successful, as you have no doubt been informed 
by the papers. He inspires and lifts one by the 
power of his rare genius and nobler character. The 
Gods have been exceptional in 'their benefits to the 
young ' Italian, as he seems possessed of all their 
graces. I am in love with him, if I know what love 
is, that is, I believe in and trust him thoroughly. At 
first he looked so grand and unapproachable, do you 
know I was afraid of him, but only last night, when I 
was overcome by my treacherous nerves, and broke 
down like a foolish child at the end of the last act, 
my confidence in this man was so instinctive, that 
almost before I knew what I was doing, I found 
myself weeping in his arms. He did and said most 
kindly things a woman could expect. He patted me 
gently on the head, as though I was a child, while I 
was so humiliated that I could not raise my face to 
look into the eyes regarding me. Talking to me 
gently all the while, he led me to a seat in my dress- 
ing-room ; he then went into his own room to pour 
me a glass of wine, which you know, madame, I am 
much averse to drinking ; but his gentle urgency was 


96 


JOHN HING, MANAGER. 


so captivating I took it with pleasure and benefit 
from so considerate a hand. 

“ As I sat drinking the wine, he told me amusing and 
pathetic stories of his life, in which he painted the 
most delightful pictures of Italy and the Villa Savelli. 
I can actually see the little white court, and hear the 
soft splash of the fountains ; I can hear the birds sing- 
ing among the fragrant blossoms of the lemon trees. 

“ The Villa Savelli ! how sweet it sounds ! I wish I 
might go there some day ; I wish I might see this 
great, handsome, kingly man in his own castle. Per- 
haps, who knows ? It is my * Castle in Spain.’ 

“ Sometimes I am half afraid of King, he has such 
a piercing, compelling look in his gray eyes ; and again 
he makes me feol withered and small in my own es- 
timation, when he seems literally to fling out between 
his scornful lips some scathing remark touching me 
or my sex. He is, however, so much a gentleman 
that he invariably covers such an offence with some 
pretty gallantry of speech or action calculated to 
atone for his want of courtesy. 

Then again, he has a strong, strangely silent mood, 
when he touches your heart in spite of your deter- 
mination not to like him. He never talks of himself, 
and he has such self-control that he moves others 
greatly to his liking. I think that it is this quality 
in him that makes me afraid, as it seems to me 
that if he should attempt or get an influence over 
one’s mind, there are strong reserves in his nature 
which would render him dangerous — particularly 
to a woman. 

I call him the stony man because nothing appears 
to make any outward impression upon his coldness. 
But I see beneath the surface sometimes the awful 
tragedy of a human soul ; and I know John King is 
not a happy man — why, I wonder? Yes — I think I 
am more sorry on final consideration, than hateful 


JOHN NlNG, MANAGER. 


97 


toward him, because I cannot bear to see people suf- 
fer so much. Yes, dear madame, I think I will go to 
Paris with you ; but I will now get to work. More 
anon. Adieu, with all my fond heart, 

Judith Kent. 

P.S. Oh, I should say the company is not alto- 
gether delightful ; there is one of those monstrous 
affairs too common to onr profession being carried 
on here. I am sure Alessandro does not understand, 
and John King is indifferent. Her position in the 
company has been purchased of him. J. K.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Judith Kent was most reluctant to leave Denver ; 
not so with Andre Doree. Henri had left suddenly 
for San Francisco with a hastily formed excuse, and 
for her the time dragged miserably. It was only 
when the company reached San Francisco that she 
regained her buoyancy of spirit, soon to be crushed 
again by a bitter disappointment. Henri had gone 
south ; at least, so a formal note received upon her 
arrival had informed her. This was followed by an 
assurance that he daily expected to return. 

“ They always commence this way when the end is 
near,” she thought, bitterly. 

San Francisco invariably gives, even to the casual 
observer, an idea of characteristic singularity. The 
hurry and life is not, perhaps, unlike any other city, 
but the fact in peculiar contrast is, that while with 
all its rush and confusion New York is conservative, 
in San Francisco one feels more intimately ac- 
quainted with human joys and sorrows ; kindlier, 
more sympathetic and considerate toward others. 


98 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


Perhaps Judith Kent became insensibly affected 
by that bond of sympathy, which, like a silken tie, 
linked each one here with his fellow creatures. It 
was true that she bestowed a little more attention 
upon Andre Doree. Whenever Andre appeared be- 
fore her she could but remark how spiritless was her 
manner and pale her cheeks, how bitter the grief 
and heavy were her eyes. 

She spoke with such condescending sweetness or 
stooping sense of superiority in her overtures, that 
her approaches, made on the cautious side of friend- 
ship, received from Andre Doree the rebuke of 
proud silence. 

Andre excused Henri’s absence in various ways. 
They were lies, all lies, and Andre Doree hated lies. 

The days went by ; they were few in the calendar, 
but to Doree, in her anxiety, they seemed a hundred 
years. She found herself growing thin and pale ; 
cruel little pains went darting through her chest, and 
once there were tiny flecks of blood upon the hand- 
kerchief which she removed from her lips. With 
gloomy apprehension of the impending future, she 
turned to her maid, holding up the blood-stained 
handkerchief : 

“ Oh, I think I am going like Camille,” sjie said, 
wnth an attempt at lightness in her speech that belied 
the serious look in her fair, sweet face ; but the laugh 
that followed had scarcely left her lips when the 
blood poured from her mouth, staining the white 
gown in a way that was hideous. Victorine had suf- 
ficient presence of mind to lay Andre down, holding 
her to the bed almost by force. 

“ Do not move ! do not try to speak !” the maid 
implored. 

“ You have not sent for anyone,” Andre whispered, 
“no one must know !” 

“ Oh, m^dame ! let me send for a physician. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


“ No, I shall be better, you must not tell any one, 
Victorine.” Andre formed the words with her lips. 

Do you understand ?” 

“ Oui, madame,” the maid answered tearfully. 

In a few moments the hemorrhage ceased and 
Andre laid quiet, thinking how best to conceal the 
nature of her illness. After a while summoning the 
maid she dictated a brief note to King and Savelli, 
stating that she had a bad cold, so bad a cold that she 
could not pronounce her lines. 

The management sent back regrets and excused 
her performance. 

For the next few days everyone seemed busily ab- 
sorbed in their own concerns. The great world 
moved on and left her behind, fixed in the track ; 
she could not move on. There had suddenly ceased 
in her all motive power to move. The flashing Prin- 
cess of the dressing-room saw her castles falling, her 
standard deserted by the Prince who made her king- 
dom. Instead of the voluptuous beauty of the palace 
on the Mediterranean made sweet by love, and power, 
and laughter, and wine, she crouched in a corner of 
a dull, hotel apartment, except for Victorine, unloved, 
unhonored, alone, deserted. 

With Pharisaical politeness, or something more 
kindly, even, in the impulse that led her to seek 
Andre Doree ; a silent reaching toward the unhappy 
woman ; a wish to be kind, and generous, without in- 
viting the freedom of intimate association, Judith 
Kent dressed for the street one morning, and carrying 
a bunch of roses in her hand, rapped at the door, in- 
tending to inquire of Victorine concerning her mis- 
tress’ health. 

As Victorine opened the door, she Saw Andre stand- 
ing behind her ; but she moved out of sight immedi- 
ately. Not before, however, Judith’s glance had 


loo John king, managei^. 

passed over the maid’s shoulder to observe how 
changed was Andre’s appearance. 

“ How is Miss Doree this morning ?” she inquired. 

“ Not well,” responded the maid, curtly, who like 
water in a prism, lived so wholly within the narrow 
circle of her mistress’ life as to insensibly reflect the 
shades of her opinions. She did not accordingly feel 
very warmly disposed toward Judith Kent. 

“ I am very sorry ; will you tell her ?” and Judith 
hesitated. ‘‘These flowers, I thought might please 
her. Will you give them to her, Victorine, with my 
compliments, and regrets that she is ill ?” 

” I will,” responded Victorine as she took the 
flowers. 

“ And Victorine,” as the maid was about to close 
the door, “ tell Miss Doree that if there is anything 
that I can do, she is welcome to call upon me. I will 
get her a book or some flowers, or anything that she 
might like outside.” 

“ Thank you,” said Victorine, and she closed the 
door. 

A few mornings later, while Judith was engaged 
with her correspondence, the door of her room was 
flung open with such tragic force that she sprang in- 
stantly to her feet. She confronted the alarming 
spectacle of Andre Doree in a greatly disordered but 
charming dishabille of white, trimmed with ermine. 
Her cheeks had lost all color ; her eyes were hollow 
and miserable ; her face was swollen and tear-stained ; 
the great yellow masses of her hair fell about her 
shoulders like a gorgeous banner of gold. She 
slammed the door behind her, and staggered rather 
than walked across the room with a paper clenched 
in one hand, that she thrust out toward Judith with a 
terrible frown of anger. 

‘‘ Will you read that. Miss Kent ?” she inquired, in 
a hard, cold voice, pointing to a marked passage. “ I 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. lOI 

think,” she went on with a hysterical break in the 
words, “ I think, perhaps, I am not quite right here 
with which she flung down the paper, and clenched 
her hands in her hair, walking swiftly to and fro. In 
a dazed frame of mind Judith mechanically picked up 
the paper, and began to read the marked paragraph. 

“ Brilliant Wedding. 

“ Married at the home of the bride in San Francisco, 
this evening, Henri Austin to Isabella Freddly.” 

At this point, Judith, with a feeling of compassion 
looked toward the excited and desperate girl. 

“ What is it?” she inquired. “ Did I read aright ? 
Or am I a mad creature, gone suddenly mad since 
last night ?” 

“I see,” said Judith indignantly, that Henri Austin 
is married.” 

“ I loved him,” Andre said, as she turned her eyes 
full upon Judith, with the pathetic innocence of a 
child, “ I cannot live without him ; you do^not know, 
Judith Kent ” 

“ I know that you are a woman, and I am sorry for 
you. Come here and sit down ; let us talk together. 
What else could you expect ?” and she attempted to 
place her arm around the girl’s waist with the air of 
one condescending, which Andre re.sented. 

“ Do not touch me, you are a woman ; I cannot bear 
it ! your touch seems strange and alien to me. Why 
have I come to you ? a woman’ of ice who knows 
nothing of the great passions between men and 
women !” 

It was a peculiar case, that Judith did not know 
just how to approach. She felt as the girl said that 
she could not comprehend further than that this 
woman suffered. She was full of the righteous in- 
dignation of a virtuous young person. She thought 
to herself, perhaps a little unkindly, that Andre 


102 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


Dorde had sown to the wind and was now reaping 
the whirlwind. She had no fellowship with her 
error. “You should have known what would be the 
end." 

“ Give me the paper !" demanded Andre after a 
moment of desolate consideration. “ I will not be 
preached to at the eleventh hour," she replied with 
proud bitterness, as she turned to leave the room. 

“You can not leave this room," said Judith de- 
cidedly, “until I know what you intend to do. You 
look fit for a madhouse, and I intend to put my 
strength between you and any new act of folly you 
may contemplate. I should thank God, if I were yon, 
that I had escaped with health and beauty from a life 
that would soon consummate the ruin of all." 

The girl turned upon her fiercely. “ In this world," 
she went on wildly, “I have given everything, Judith 
Kent ; what do you know of giving ? You have given 
nothing, deserved nothing, enjoyed nothing, suffered 
nothing ; you call that virtue ?" She stopped sud- 
denly in her restless pacing, her face a white flame of 
wrath. “ You call that virtue ? Because you have 
desired but have not dared, I call it cowardice !" 

She rushed at Judith, with all her strength attempt- 
ing to drag her from the door. “ I am mad ?" she 
shrieked in a frenzy. 

“ Let me go. I will teach you what is the cost of 
such happiness as I have won and lost, you who are too 
shallow to understand anything except some narrow 
rule which was taken with your pap. Thou shalt not 
lie, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not commit " 

“ Stop ! I will not listen !" said Judith, putting her 
palm across the girl’s ghastly lips. “ I shall not allow 
you to impose upon me, Andre Dor6e. Take your sin 
and your suffering as you will, so shall it be to you a 
blessing or a curse.” 

“A curse ! a curse ! Judith Kent^ I have no rescue 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


103 


in words : I am like a ship beaten by inescapable 
storms,” she twisted her white hands together as she 
spoke, until the flashing diamonds cut into the ten- 
der flesh. She did indeed look like a beautiful 
maniac. Judith was appalled by her terrible behavior. 
She thought she would go and get a doctor, as it was 
a heart complaint for which her mind could manu- 
facture no panacea, except rebuke and counsel both 
which appeared indigestible medicine. 

I think you should at least go to your room and 
go to bed.” 

I will ! I will !” she consented with a suddenly 
assumed quiet, as she took the paper from Judith’s hand 
and left the room. 

On the third day after Henri Austin’s marriage, 
thinking perhaps she would feel a little better, Andre 
put on her cloak, then going into the street she walked 
across the square where the hotel was situated. She 
looked with dull, tear-dimmed eyes full of sharp in- 
quiries at every person that she met. Perhaps she 
hoped she might see the face so dear to her. If so, 
she was disappointed. After a while she returned in 
the same covert, hunted fashion to her apartments. 

Victorine had just received the tea-tray and was ar- 
ranging it upon a little table. 

The pale, sick woman took off her cloak, dropping 
it carelessly upon the floor as she sat down, staring 
in blank silence at the table. 

“Now, now, dear madame ! dear madame ! You 
will drink this wine I have ordered ? You cannot live 
so ; you have tasted nothing for two days excepting 
a cup of coffee ; you are as white as a dead woman.” 

“ What is that note on the tray, Victorine ?” she in- 
terrupted, in a dry, hard voice. 

“ That is— I don’t know for sure.” 

“ Give it to me,” she commanded shortly. 

Victorine obeyed. With the letter in her hand^ 


104 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


Andre applied the polished tip of her pointed nail to 
the edge of the envelope and tore it open. Inside was 
a note addressed to Henri Austin from the hotel. 
Her eyes fixed themselves in a stony stare upon the 
superscription, as with stiffening lips and hands that 
shook until the paper rustled in her fingers, she tore 
open the second envelope. It was the hotel bill sent 
to Henri Austin and returned to her unpaid. The 
man was not so wholly cruel as she believed ; the bill 
having missed him on its way, and, in the happy 
flight of time for him, he had forgotten it was due. 

She arose, with a look of death making itself ap- 
parent even to Victorine ; the blood turned purple 
in her cheeks with the awful chill at her heart, as she 
placed her hand instinctively to her side, conscious of 
a dull, aching misery there that could not be reached. 

“ What is it, madame ! You look so wretched and 
you do not speak ?” 

Victorine crept after her, like a faithful spaniel, 
with distress in her voice and tears in her eyes, as 
Andre walked slowly across the room and tossed the 
bill into the fire. 

“ It is my obligation to the hotel,” she replied, in a 
cynical voice. Then she turned and looked at Vic- 
torine with an expression .so determined, so wild, im- 
pressing every line of her beautiful face, the girl 
shrank back in terror. 

“Mercy, madame! do come and take something 
warm ; you frighten me, you look so unnatural.” 

“ I am unnatural !” she said. 

“ Oh, madame ! dear madame !” sobbed Victorine, 
“take this! take this! I beg you, madame!” with 
which the maid flies back to the table, and seizing 
the decanter upon it, pours two-thirds of its contents 
into a glass, when she brings the goblet in both hands, 
and presents it imploringly for Andre’s acceptance. 

“ 4iidre seizes it with inconsiderate haste, and 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


105 


drinks it feverishly, without once taking her thirsty 
lips from the glass, until it is drained to the last drop. 
As she tips back her head, the loose coil of her hair be- 
came unfastened, and rippled like a sudden shower of 
gold over her white dress ; the loose sleeve of her 
gown, heavily trimmed with ermine, slipped up the 
round column of her ivory arm, leaving it bare to the 
elbow. 

She stands thus, like a diminutive statue, cut in 
marble and clothed in snow, over which is flung the 
warm lights of a fire and the dim radiance of the 
chandelier. Then she reels a little, still retaining her 
hold of the glass ; she looks upon Victorine, she nods 
mockingly, laughing a cold, mirthless laugh. 

“ It is the life blood of human wretchedness you 
give me,” she declares. “ Since it serves to keep our 
miseries in circulation by making despair drunk.” 
There is in every word she utters, every movement 
she makes, an appearance of madness. Her voice that 
was wont to be so musical, has a dry huskiness of 
tone as if its notes were broken and out of tune. Her 
smile, so bright and winsome, is sinister ; her pretty 
airs, and fancies are chilled by that swift winter that 
has come with the blasted hopes of her heart. 

“ I wish you would go away, Victorine, and leave 
me, I want to be alone, when I want you I will ring 
the bell.” 

“ But madame looks so ill—if she will permit me 
ta stay.” 

“ Go !” she demands with a touch of her old imper- 
iousness, but even as she speaks she reels, and the 
glass in her hand, falling with a crash upon the marble 
hearth, lay at her feet empty and broken, like her 
misspent life. 

“ I am very ill, Victorine ! I am so sick here ! — ” 
With which she places her hand against her bosom, 
walking weakly toward the bed. The terrified maid 


I06 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

hastened to assist her, lifting her on to the bed as 
she might have done with a child. She arranged the 
pillows for the dainty head, so richly crowned with 
gold. Andre coughed a little while VictOrine was 
engaged tucking in about her feet the silk petticoats 
and the long white train of her gown. Then she gave 
a gasping cry which caused the maid to turn toward 
her with a shriek of horror, for her face and bosom 
were being rapidly crimsoned with blood that flowed 
from her mouth. 

“ A handkerchief, Victorine !” the one she held in 
her hand was dripping wet with blood, 

Victorine thrust her own into her hand, wiping her 
face with her apron ; shaking all the while as she did 
this so that her teeth chattered. This second attack 
seemed more fearful than the first one. 

“ It is the end !” she averred calmly. “ Do not leave 
me, Victorine.” 

“Yes, I must ! I must !” replied the terrified girl as 
she ran out of the room and across the hall, rapping 
at Judith’s door. 

It was about six o’clock in the evening and Judith 
was preparing to go to the theatre, when she heard 
that sharp, sudden knock which suggested the im- 
patience of the person who claimed her attention. 
She stepped hastily to the door, flinging it wide open, 
to meet the ghastly and horrified countenance of the 
trembling maid. 

“ For the love of heaven, what is the matter ?” 

“Come quick, my mistress is dying !” 

Judith flung her hat and gloves into a chair, hurry- 
ing after the distressed maid. As soon as her eyes 
rested upon the fearful spectacle of Andre in her 
white dress covered with blood, with a quickness of 
sense natural to her in perilous situations, .she com- 
manded the girl to go at once for a physician while 
§he remained with her mistress j then correcting her- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


107 


self, “No, Victorine ! You remain with her while I 
go down to the office.” She was out of the room 
even as she spoke and running down the stairs. 
The office was full of men, but she did not bestow a 
thought upon them as she addressed the clerk in an 
excited voice. 

“ I want a physician for No. 12 ; is there one in the 
house?” she inquired. 

“ There is,” responded the clerk, leisurely. 

“ Oh, hurry him, please ! This is a case demand- 
ing immediate attention.” 

“What is the trouble. Miss Kent?” inquired a 
voice behind her, and turning her head she beheld 
the manager. 

He stood calmly looking down upon her in his 
collected way, seeming to inquire more by his man- 
ner than with his lips the cause of her agitation. 
He was so immaculate in nicely calculated order of 
person, so clear-cut and strong and stony in his self- 
reliance, that Judith, all fire and nerve, was irritated 
by the sight of him at that moment. He seemed to 
her a mere calculating machine, a thing without 
proper human feeling. 

She turned upon him with sharp impetuosity. 

“A woman is dying,” she said, and turned to leave 
the room. She heard him following her, although 
she did not pause to consider the fact that he wished 
a more definite explanation. If he could be cold and 
uncivil she could match that humor to-night at least. 

“ What did it concern him if they all died,” she 
thought bitterly, “ if John King’s ship sailed safely 
between the reefs.” 

At the foot of the stairs he intercepted her by lay- 
ing a detaining hand upon her arm. 

“ Miss Kent, will you kindly tell me who is ill ?” 

She looked down upon him from the first step of the 


I08 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

stairs, her young face full of worry ; her eyes with the 
pathetic Cenci look in their grey depths. 

“ It is Andre Dor6e,” she answered briefly and hur- 
ried on. 

“ May I go in ?” he asked as he followed her. 

“ Ah ? there is the doctor now V* and they all en- 
tered the room together. 

“Good God !" was John King’s single exclamation. 
It caused Andre to unclose her eyes and look up at 
him. Judith stood near him upon one side of the bed, 
her hands locked together, her gaze fixed upon the 
doctor’s face, full of inquiring eagerness. Victorine 
was holding a little bed lamp so that it cast a ghastly 
yellow shade over the sick girl’s features, whose pallor 
was still farther intensified by the red stain upon her 
lips and the feverish brilliancy of her blue eyes. 

“ Will I die ?” she inquired faintly of the doctor, 
who was holding a spoon for her to swallow the col- 
orless liquid he had dropped into it. 

“ You must be very quiet, and the attack will not ■ 
prove fatal,” he replied in his grave professional voice. 

“Not fatal!” she murmured again. Then she 
looked at John King ; such a look as he never forgot 
to his dying day. Everything that a despairing soul 
could express seemed concentrated in the eyes fixed 
upon his face. It caused him to bend gently down, 
touching her loose light hair, smoothing it with a 
woman’s sympathetic hand away from her forehead. 

“Poor little girlie ! What do you want?” he in- 
quired with so much feeling in his voice, that it 
touched Judith so deeply that she began to cry. 

“ Nothing,” answered Andre faintly, as she put her 
hand beneath the pillow. 

“ You must not do that, you must lay very quiet,” 
commanded the doctor, as he leaned down to draw 
the coverlet which had been thrown over her closer 
beneath her chiQ, 


JOHN KING, manager. 


109 


** I want a handkerchief,” she explained. 

Judith was crying hysterically. There was some- 
thing fearful expressing itself in Andre’s face, which 
passed into her sympathetic soul, melting it to tears. 
It seemed to her, that the great angel of doom had 
descended and set his black seal upon the fair face 
before them. That already that mysterious and 
dividing veil hung between them, which separated 
her from their earthly care and concern. Her face 
was so hardened, helpless, and hopeless. 

“ You must not cry like that, you will make your- 
self ill,” persuaded John King, rising from his stoop- 
ing posture to bestow a little attention upon her. 

“ I am ashamed !” she responded in a suppressed 
voice, “ but I will be better in a moment.” 

“ It will not be fatal !” again murmured the sick 
woman, moving her hand restlesstly beneath the 
pillow, still looking at Judith and John King as she 
withdrew her hand under the coverlet, and placed it 
over her heart. There was a muffled report of a pistol- 
shot from the bed. Every person in the room uttered 
some exclamation of horror as they turned toward it. 

“ My God, what a nerve !” said the doctor, as he 
stripped down the coverlet, revealing the smoking 
revolver clutched in the dying woman’s hand. John 
King seized her quickly in his arms, and as he did so 
a look of victory, like a flash of light, illumined her 
eyes, her lips for one instant. Then the pulse flut- 
tered out in the wrist, beneath the doctor’s fingers. 
The golden lashes fell upon the woe white cheeks. 
The jaw dropped slightly apart and the doctor, ris- 
ing slowly from the side of the bed, pronounced in an 
awe struck voice, We can do no more ; this woman 
is dead.” 

As John King sat with the dead form clasped in 
his arms, it seemed to him that he could not allow all 
that represented life in her to go out into unreckoned 


jottN KING, Manager. 


iio 

space. His mind was full of the most profound im- 
pression and inexpressible thought, which seemed to 
take account of his complicity in this tragedy. He 
saw the doctor standing with his watch in his hand 
upon the opposite side of the bed, he heard Victorine 
raving and screaming in an adjoining room, he saw 
Judith Kent with her hands pressed against her ears, 
sitting crouched upon the floor, with her face bent 
down upon her knees and concealed. A gray mist 
appeared to veil all, and to render the scene secondary 
to that which rested its broken heart and blood- 
stained lips upon his bosom. Death in its most pleas- 
ant aspects was a terrible thing to him, but to con- 
front this sudden thrusting out of existence by an un- 
calculated act of madness, this blackness of human 
destiny, so rashly hurried against the blank walls of 
an unknown future, — and the cause of it all. Ah, 
there was the bitterness of death in this thought, like 
the seven wounds of “ Our Lady of Sorrow,” piercing 
his aroused conscience, as he felt for the moment 
that he had played his miserable part in the cause 
which sent this unrepentant and misguided soul hell- 
ward. There can be nothing so reproachful as a 
dead face. It accuses by the very majesty of its im- 
pressive silence, its inability to accuse or demand 
justice. The thought possesses one that it is all over 
and he can never atone to it for injuries done. He 
seemed to see her at that moment, when his better 
nature was aroused, like a plant fallen from heaven, 
and ere it came to flower crushed and trodden under 
a brutal hoof. 

“ She is dead, Mr. King,” said the doctor for the 
second time, as he turned away. Still for another 
moment he did not move ; fixed, rooted to the spot 
by the thought of the tender beat of life which can 
be so quickly stilled forever. He thought of Eileen, 
and a tremor shook his strong frame. Of Alice, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


Ill 


whom he had accused and made responsible. He saw 
as in a dream, the lilies on her breast and in her dark 
hair. Thus she would go out one day unforgiven, 
and the great and solemn peal of the organ, the 
mellow voice of the singer, would announce that she 
slept — and he — where would he be in that hour ? In 
Heaven or Hell ? The tender pathetic refrain of her 
voice floated through the dark chambers of his 
memory : “ We have erred and strayed from thy 
ways.” 

As again he saw in vision the black robed figure 
of the kneeling woman making her passionate con- 
fessions to Heaven, he rose suddenly from the couch 
to press his cold white hands against his head. He 
heard Judith sobbing at his feet, and wished that he 
could weep so, but he was too strong to express his 
torture that way. He longed so much for the touch 
of something warm and human near to him ; he 
stooped down, raising the girl almost fiercely from 
the floor. 

“Come away !” he commanded. “ I must see what 
can be done here. It is no place for you, Judith.” 

In her weakness and terror she clung to him. It 
soothed him to comfort her a little ; it gave him some 
cause for speech, that served to withdraw his mind, 
in consideration of her, from its inward conflict. He 
led her out across the hall, through a crowd of hor- 
rified people who stood about the door talking inco- 
herently with the doctor. 

“ Come in,” she sobbed as they reached her door 
together. “ Come in and let me speak to you, I am 
so miserable !” Still she clung to him with her cold 
trembling fingers, she looked at him with her piteous 
tear drowned eyes ; her pathetic Cenci eyes, clinging 
to his set, white face. “ We have both sinned against 
that which lays in there beyond the power of forgive- 
ness ; oh let us repent together !” Her sweet voice 


112 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


was broken by her sobs ; her tears fell over her sor- 
rowful face like rain. 

“You can never know,” she said, “ how I ache 
here !“ with which she placed her hand against her 
heart. “ Because I have been so cruel ! so cruel to 
her !” 

“You accuse yourself too much,” he answered 
coldly, as he came in and closed the door, leaning 
against it, with all his agony inside. 

“ Oh, it is so horrible !” she raved, wringing her 
hands. “ That any one should suffer like that ; and 
that we should forget to be human, that we should 
reckon ourselves so much better flesh !” still he stood 
with that stern, white look making his features rigid. 

“ You are very emotional,” he declared. “ And 
you will make yourself sick to no purpose.” You 
had better lie down.” 

“ I want something to ease my conscience !” she 
burst forth more passionately, covering her face and 
bowing down as she wept, until her whole body 
shook. 

“ I feel as though I had murdered her ; murdered 
Andre Doree, poor little Doree !” Here she threw 
herself face downward upon the couch. “ You may 
go and leave me alone,” she said with that sudden 
perversity of strongly aroused emotions. 

Instead he followed, kneeling at her side, he lay his 
arm across her back and bent his cheek to the pillow. 

“ It is I who have need of comfort, little one ! I 
am a very wretched man, Judith !” he confessed. 
“ You have committed no real wrong in your inno- 
cent young life, but I, Judith — this circumstance is 
like a stern-light in a ship, it serves to show the path 
I have traveled, the reefs I have struck, and the dis- 
asters I have sustained. The worst of it is, we can 
never go back, Judith, to redeem ourselves.” 

“ But we can go on, and that is why I want you ; to 


John king, managei^. 


ii3 

see and t6 help by your wrongs to see my own faults 
and weaknesses. Yesterday I thought I was a good 
‘ girl ; to-day I think I shall never be clean to my own 
conscience because I have — I have — been so cruel — I 
have ” She could not speak, but in her passion- 

ate longing for sympathy in her suffering, she threw 
her slim, white arm across his neck, as she pressed 
her tear wet cheek deeper into the pillow. 

“ I thought I was so much better than she, than 
you, and I am only a sinner in another way. I want 
to atone, to do something — let me help you — let me 
be good to you !” 

She felt an arm thrown suddenly about her waist 
like a bar of iron. It dragged her unresisting form 
nearer to him. 

“ The bed of death brings each of us to our individ- 
uality,” he said. “You shall be good to me, little 
one, if you will and God bless you !” 

One instant she felt the strong, firm lips pressed 
against hers, and the next moment he had left her, 
not daring to linger longer. 

Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves, 
and John King felt as he closed the door of Judith 
Kent’s apartment that the lance was in rest for an- 
other sharp tilt with his own soul. Whatever was 
poetic and strong and true in his nature had been so 
overwhelmed by a practical consideration of his ma- 
terial interests and social appearance among worldly 
minded men, that virtue was introduced into a dis- 
advantageous competition with self-interest. The 
deep and tragic events of the hour had brought him 
the alarming recognition of what lay concealed under 
the dry crust of a selfish animalism ; and there he 
beheld the uplifting and outreaching of a tender 
human soul, passion driven, and conscience guarded 
and accused. As he walked with a slow, meditative 
step across the hall in the direction of Savelli’s door, 


114' JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

his mind was made the ground of contention between 
the pull of two opposite claims ; his heart and his in- 
tellect. The beat of life in his bosom rose sharply in 
response to the memory of a pair of warm, confiding 
lips pressed against his own. His body thrilled with 
the remembrance of a slim white arm about his neck, 
while his ears were filled with the ring of her humble 
petition to be good to him — it pierced his conscious- 
ness like a sword. Once more into his life came the 
tender dream of linking itself to some white woman- 
hood, which thus allied might become the guardian 
impulse to all that was noblest in his soul. Such is 
the magic of loving, it may engender in base souls, 
even, holy emotions and lofty desires. But with 
John King these thoughts were coupled with some 
twinges of remorse. He was finely attuned in his 
inner being, it is true, to the touch of what was 
noble, but the wrong keys were continually being 
played upon by the fingers of the devil. He made 
the opportunity and fate produced the discord. 

With mixed thoughts and emotions he arrived at 
Savelli’s door, where he softly rapped upon it. He 
could hear the young tragedian repeating his lines as 
he paced the floor. Pietro opened the door. Savelli, 
who had not heard the confusion without, smiled 
upon King in a genial way, as he signified by a nod 
of his head his wish that the'manager should enter 
the room. 

“ King,” he laughed, taking a square look into his 
visitor’s face, “ how melodramatic you look this 
evening ! I expected you would be at the theatre. 
What time is it, Pietro ?” 

“ Savelli,” John King hesitated, with such an ex- 
pression of distress pictured on his grave counte- 
nance, the fiery and impulsive Italian cried out in 
alarm : For God's sake. King, don’t look at me in 
that way. What has happened ?” 


John king, manager. 


115 


“A woman has shot herself, Savelli.” 

^ “A woman shot herself ? Where ? Who is it ?” 

“ In this hotel. It is Andre Doree.” 

Instantly every drop of blood left Savelli’s cheek, 
as he grasped the back of a chair to steady himself. 

“ Shot herself ! You say shot herself this evening, 
King ? Was she mad quite, do you think ?” 

“ God only knows who reads the human heart,” re- 
plied King solemnly. 

“ Can I go in. King ?” 

King shook his head. “ The coroners must see the 
body first, Alessandro.” 

“ Why was I not called, King ? This is a terrible 
thing to happen.” 

“ It is so terrible, Alessandro, that you need to be 
thankful you did not see it.” 

Mechanically Alessandro raised his eyes to the 
clock. “ It is time to go,” he said, “ Pietro, my hat 
and coat. It seems inhuman, though. We must go 
to the theatre and say our part before the world, as 
though sorrow and death had no place in the life of 
a successful manager and brilliant star. These are 
the tragedies behind the scenes which serve to 
quicken our sensibilities and deepen our impressions 
as actors and men.” 

“ Poor little woman ! I cannot even yet realize 
that what you tell me is true ! Give me a glass of 
wine, Pietro.” 

Upon drinking the wine he turned with a quick, 
impulsive movement toward John King, putting out 
his hand in a gesture of command. “ This will make 
a place for Florence, King.” 

“ Florence !” was John King’s single exclamation 
as he gave Savelli one of his sharp, sidelong glances, 
twisting the end of his moustache as he spoke. 


Il6 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


CHAPTER IX. 

We need not linger over the mournful details of 
the last chapter. When a woman has shot herself to 
death, her life and the cause are chiefly considered, 
her burial is a matter of secondary importance. We 
go under the cover of darkness, and after the first 
shock of our departure we are soon forgotten. This 
was no less true with poor little Doree and the Savelli 
company than with the rest of humanity. With Ju- 
dith, as with all natures capable of being so intensely 
wrought upon, the passage of the storm marked a 
period of calm in which she contemplated herself 
with less satisfaction than she could have wished. 
She saw that at a time of great excitement she had 
granted more liberty to the manager than in a mood 
of cooler contemplatiou her reason would sanction as 
being wise. She felt herself rebuked by the child- 
ish letting down of her impulses so far as to have 
put her arm around his neck, and to have allowed 
the manager to have kissed her. With Savelli, on 
a similar occasion, it had been a simple act of affec- 
tion which it comforted her to remember ; but with 
John King, he had responded to her thoughtless 
caress with something in the act that made her face 
burn with uncomfortable Confusion every time she 
thought about it. 

The act of throwing herself into Savelli’s arms or 
of kissing John King, was not so coquettish as one 
would imagine, if the life of the actress was to be 
judged of by that of an ordinary woman. In a pro- 
fession where the most exquisite sensibilities are re- 
quired, and the emotions are so continually wrought 
upon and demanded to appear upon the surface, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


II7 


this abnormal condition of life and character, when 
taken in connection with the free association of the 
sex upon the stage and in the dressing-room, has a 
tendency to break down those natural barriers of re- 
serve which society elsewhere establishes between 
men and women. It is true that such associations are 
often very innocent and charming in their unreserved 
familiarity, if the woman is wise and the man is honor- 
able ; but so much in such character and behavior 
amidst scenes alluring to the senses, is thrown open 
to the admission of all sorts of objectional relations, 
that they are more frequently damnable than pure. 

It is singular that the two conditions of life, the 
moral and the immoral, meet here upon a common 
plane without mingling, and yet without much open 
rupture, such as public scandal. Nowhere else have a 
man and woman such liberty, if they choose, and are 
so little censured and talked about as upon the stage. 
There is one other circumstance which goes far to es- 
tablish so much freedom between the sexes in this 
profession. It is to be found in the feeling of each 
one that he is in a sense separated by his profession 
from the rest of mankind, and therefore more closely 
linked together, like persons of one family. They 
realize that they are a picturesque and romantic peo- 
ple, whose joys and sorrows are not of the order of 
the common multitude. They feel themselves, in ac- 
cordance with this idea, in a sense unrestricted and 
irresponsible to society in general, in which they are 
as little concerned as it might be with some strong 
religious sect or fanatical brotherhood. 

So Judith’s acts must not be measured by that strict 
sense of decorum which should mark a woman’s posi- 
tion in any other situation in life. However, Judith 
was a good girl, who looked rather to the hope of en- 
nobling the profession she had chosen by the correct- 
ness of her morals and the loftiness of her aims, 


Il8 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

rather than to contribute to its immoral effects by 
the looseness of her variable impulses. 

In accordance with this idea, and in consideration 
of some hints and innuendos regarding the managers 
character, enforced by her own impression of it, she 
found herself, as I have before stated, not a little per- 
plexed by the situation. As she began to take cool 
counsel of her reason, she considered that the warm 
and generous impulse which impelled her to lean 
down to shape and to raise the inflexible spirit of 
John King by the strength of her weak, white 
womanhood, was a doubtful task. She considered it 
unfortunate that he should look her way with any 
particular interest ; as there was something in her- 
self which responded to the strong determination in 
him to win whatever his heart was set upon. In 
short, Judith could not quite calculate her pace; 
already she felt pulled by the dangerous magnetism 
of the man to the edge of the maelstrom, in which all 
her hopes as a w^oman might perish. Aware, so well 
aware, that, despite her doubts, she had so much 
womanly sympathy and longing to be good to him, 
she thought it wise to put a barrier between them. 
She concluded her cogitations upon the subject by 
offering the half distracted Victorine a place with her 
as a maid ; which that young woman was only too 
glad to accept. That poor Victorine’s grief was 
sincere was amply testified to by the frequent bursts 
of hysterical weeping in which she indulged during 
the following week of Andre’s death and burial. 

Judith was very kind to the poor girl, treating her 
much more like a friend than a servant ; she ad- 
ministered very freely to her both good counsel 
and medicine calculated to quiet the nerves and com- 
pose the mind. As soon as the opportunity pre- 
sented itself she managed very demurely to inform 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. II9 

John King that she had taken Victorine as maid, and 
would not now again ever be quite alone. 

One gets so morbid, I find, when there is no one 
near to lavish a little sympathy and affection upon, 
or to relieve one’s self of a certain amount of foolish 
talk likely to get damned up in a woman’s head and 
to find vent at inconvenient moments by the way of 
her careless tongue.” 

John King did not appear to quite relish this bit of 
information. 

“Judith, look at me, please.” They were sitting at 
breakfast together, the width of a small table be- 
tween them. In his eagerness, he rested his arm 
upon it, leaning half way across. Blushing furiously, 
Judith managed to raise her eyes to his, meeting a 
look of stern rebuke. 

“ You do not wish to be kind to me, little woman ? 
You have repented the generous impulse of the other 
day?” Something in his grave, quiet voice seemed 
to penetrate her blood and to beat in the flying pulses 
of her whole body. With one of her unconquerable, 
childish impulses overcoming the woman’s wise dig- 
nity, she put out her hand with a quick, nervous 
movement signifying her inner disturbance. 

“ Yes !” she confessed, the tears moistening the 
clear gray disk of her lovely eyes, “ I would like to 
be good to you, Mr. King, but I am half afraid of 
you.” 

A smile of triumph worked hard for expression at 
the corners of his mouth as he drew himself up 
stiffly before his plate, addressing himself diligently 
to the meal arranged around it. 

You need not fear me, Judith, how could I harm 
you? I have no wish in my heart concerning you 
that is not honest.” 

On her part she bridled at this speech, which 
sounded as though,he was conciliatating a very young 


120 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


person. She struggled to assume a cold, grave man- 
ner, which was wholly unnatural, and succeeded in 
imposing upon him only so far as he permitted her 
to eat her breakfast in silence. With a slight frown 
of annoyance puckering her brows, and her cheeks 
burning hot with the most bewitching color, she 
arose from the table without apology. 

“ Good morning, Mr. King,” she said curtly, and so 
would have left him. 

“Judith ! Miss Kent !” he was beside her speaking 
softly with his face very near to her own. “ Please 
permit me to call upon you this afternoon. I feel 
that I should like to vindicate myself.” 

She hesitated without looking at him. 

“ Will you ?” 

“ Is it of so much importance, Mr. King ?” 

“Judith, I object to this play on your part, it is too 
shabby to be real. Let us be true and sincere^friends, 
if nothing more, I implore you. I do want to see 
you, it is very important to me that I set myself right 
in your estimation.” 

“ Then you may come at four o’clock,” she con- 
sented. 

“ Thank you,” he responded, and she hurried 
away. 

It happened that afternoon that Victorine had one 
of her inconsolable attacks of hysteria, produced by 
the sight evidently of a little pin which Andre Doree 
had given to the maid. 

“Oh Madame ! the beautiful little Madame !” she 
burst forth in a flood of tears. She continued to re- 
iterate these exclamations until Judith felt like 
screaming, so sharply did the cry jar upon her 
nerves. 

“ Will you go into my room, Victorine, and lie down 
upon the couch ? You must try to control yourself a 
little more. I will bring you some tea directly.” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 12 1 

The request had the tone of a command, which led 
Victorine to obey without questioning. Judith wet a 
handkerchief in cologne water, laying it across the 
girl’s forehead, who seemed, once she touched the 
couch, to lay upon it quiet and exhausted. Then she 
proceeded to get out a pot for making tea, but the 
process was so prolonged that Victorine had fallen 
asleep before the cup was ready to present and John 
King rapped at her door for admittance. As she 
opened it to him, she remarked that he looked a little 
worn and jaded, and that his eyes conned her face 
with an unmistakable expression of anxiety. He laid 
his hat upon the table, seating himself near to Judith 
where he could watch every expression of her change- 
ful features. 

“ Will you have a cup of tea, Mr. King ?” She in- 
quired with unaffected hospitality. “ I have just 
made a cup for Victorine, and she has gone to sleep.” 
She was busily engaged in pouring it out while she 
talked, and when she had finished she came toward 
him with the translucent china in one hand, and the 
silver cream pitcher in the other. 

“ Will you have it ? I notice you look tired.” 

He reached up, touching the tips of her fingers as 
he took the cup from her hand, in such a way as to 
cause her to look directly at him, and so, as their 
eyes met, a certain expression of sympathy made 
itself manifest between them, that proved so embar- 
rassing to Judith, she quickly averted her face, as she 
sat down to drink her tea a few feet removed from 
him. 

“ I thank you for the tea,” he said, still pursuing 
her with his quizzical, half tender glance, adding 
immediately, “ I would like to know some of the in- 
stances leading up to Miss Horde’s suicide, if you Jiap- 
pen to know anything more about it than I do. She was 


122 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


not the sort of a woman I should have expected to 
have done such a thing.” 

“Why not.?” inquired Judith. “She was just the 
sort of a woman I should have expected to have done 
such a thing, a little later certainly.” 

“ That is the point. Miss Kent, a little later, when 
her beauty was gone, she might have found herself so 
poor in purse and person, but now when her beauty 
was valuable — I was a good deal shocked and an- 
noyed — the circumstance was so likely to involve us 
all in a scandal.” 

She was astonished at his change of demeanor re- 
garding this affair, to hear him express little senti- 
ments of pity, or apparent recognition of the real 
causes leading up to the tragic conclusion of an un- 
happy life. Did it mean nothing more important, 
that a beautiful young woman had killed herself be- 
cause of the insupportable misery of life, than the 
prevention of a scandal, or the preservation of the 
moral standing of a company ? 

“ I want to know,” he went on coolly, although he 
could not mistake her look of grief and censure, “ if 
you will please tell me how much you know of this 
affair, and what you told Alessandro Savelli.” 

“ I told Alessandro Savelli nothing,” said Judith, 
slowly, and with deliberate emphasis. “ But what I 
know is, that Andre Doree held her position in this 
company by the favors of two men ; one posed as a 
lover, and the other as a speculator.” 

John King flushed a little under this contemptuous 
speech. 

“You make the statement both broad and bitter. 
Miss Kent,” he responded, half angrily. “ It is a part 
of every manager’s business to accept the favors of 
fortune. The compact between myself and Henri 
Austin was made squarely upon business principles. 
The lady was his sweetheart, I was given to under- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


123 


stand that they were engaged to be married. Whether 
they would or would not consummate their engage- 
ment, was not my business to inquire. She wanted a 
position in the company and he was willing to pay 
well for her public appearance. You have been on 
the stage three years, Miss Kent, and must have had 
a practical demonstration ere this, that my position in 
this affair is by no means exceptional.” 

“ Whether it be exceptional or not, I do not hesitate 
to express my scorn of a transaction so contemptible.” 
In her agitation she rose, the warm color of indigna- 
tion mounting to her white forehead ; her large, beau- 
tiful eyes flashed down upon him the fire of her 
deeply stirred emotions. 

“ Few men I have known, I will allow,” she went on 
hurriedly, “ are better for being examined closely, but 
there are those whom I respect too much to believe 
that they would willingly sacrifice manhood in them- 
selves, so far as to deal in the prostitution of my sex 
for the love of a dollar.” 

John King threw back his head and laughed con- 
temptuously. 

** Such a man ?” 

“ Such a man, I believe Alessandro Savelli to be !” 

“ And I, Judith ?” 

In her girlish impetuosity : You are his moral 
opposite,” she said. 

In great anger, John King rose suddenly from his 
seat, with a face both white and stern. For a moment 
they stood thus in silence, regarding each other, their 
types strongly contrasted ; she all impulse, softness, 
light and emotion, he manly, strong, dark, determined, 
like a black diamond casting a lustre over an oriental 
pearl. 

“ Judith Kent ! I will not permit you to insult me 
because I am a man, with full knowledge of the 
world, and you are a dreamy, half-developed, imprac- 


124 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


tical girl. What can you expect, but that you will 
lose your position and opportunity with me ?" 

“ I expect that I will, Mr. King, but I still have the 
courage of my convictions,” replied Judith, firmly, re- 
seating herself as she spoke, in order that she might 
conceal the loose tremor of her limbs. 

“ Miss Kent, I fear you have provoked my temper,” 
he smiled, “ I do not wish to be angry with a person 
so impolitic and charming as yourself, but permit me 
to advise you, as one older and wiser as to the ways 
of womankind and mankind, to hold a stronger rein 
over your impulses and imagination.” 

He spoke with his usual cold manner and inflexible 
voice. As Judith watched him narrowly, she saw the 
lower lip was drawn in sharply against the narrow 
row of white teeth, expressive of that necessary sub- 
mi.ssion of what was strong in him to the rule of the 
will, that was not made by the rebellious blood. The 
face attracted and repelled her at once, by a sort of 
“ dangerous grace and disquieting charm.” In this 
mood the unity of strength and delicacy in his coun- 
tenance made him as handsome as a tiger. 

Having opened her lips upon a matter of so much 
importance, however, with a woman’s wilful per- 
versity, she was determined to carry the question 
through to its final issue. She felt like a timid 
pioneer in a strange country, and John King was a 
mighty obstacle, but she had tenacity and will, if not 
strength, quite equal to his own. She was the second 
woman who had looked up to him with an innocent 
wish to change the color of his morals and through 
him to create a new moral atmosphere for the stage. 

** I am not of an argumentative disposition, Mr. 
King, but I see a great cause of complaint against the 
present policy of theatrical management. It ought 
to be exposed and denounced all over the world ; it 
ought to be labelled infamous, in the interests of the 


John icincx, manager. 


unfortunate actress, and although I am slow to take 
up such things, having been roused to action and a 
sense of my duty by the awful lessons of the hour, 
you may be sure that I shall follow it as long as I 
have a tongue in my head, or a breath left in my 
body.” 

Judith betrayed her weakness to the critical eye 
regarding every movement, every shade of expression 
that flashed over her face, by the nervous quivering 
of the delicate hands that lay locked together in her 
lap. 

You have not much of either to spare just yet,” 
he smiled down upon her, with his clear cut intellec- 
tual face full of sweetness. 

She was so strangely agitated she could not allow 
him to look at her with the inquiring tenderness of a 
man who seeks a reason. It was not so much that he 
had at this moment the power to excite in her senti- 
ments of a kindred nature to that silently expressing 
itself to her, as that her nervous system was so weak- 
ened by the repeated shocks of the past few days, a 
physical response was manifested to every fresh 
cause of disturbance. 

“ Mr. King, will you excuse me from further talk 
to-day ? I may have been rude to you in my state- 
ments of some disagreeable facts ; but I am not will- 
ing to retract.” She arose abruptly to conceal her 
tears, turning her back in silent signification of her 
wish that he should go away. 

“ I have, too, been a trifle brusque, I hope you will 
pardon me. Miss Kent,” and we will resume the con- 
versation at another time. He came around before 
her to offer his hand ; she placed her own reluctantly 
in it, still turning her head so that he could only see 
the round oval of her cheek and the heavy waves of 
her hair caressing her white temples. He held her hand 


126 


JiOttN KING, MANAGER. 


a moment, regarding her with a revival in his face of 
the tormenting hunger of his heart. 

“ Miss Kent, will you permit me a little more free- 
dom that I may vindicate myself, or become converted 
to your orthodox notions of life !" He did not wait 
for her answer, but, as though fearing it might prove 
unfavorable to his wish, he pressed her hand warmly 
in his own ere he dropped it, and hurried from the 
room. 

Straight to Alessandro's door he walked, and 
rapped peremptorily upon it. Pietro answered the 
summons. 

“ Is Alessandro in, Pietro ?” he inquired. 

“ No, sir.” 

‘‘ When will he return ?” 

“ I cannot say, sir, he left no word.” 

“ Tell him when he comes back, that I have tele- 
graphed for Florence Winter.” 

Is that all, sir ?” 

“ It is all,” replied the manager, as he proceeded 
to light the cigar he carried in his fingers. He walked 
thoughtfully down the stairs into the office, sending 
the telegram as he had promised, to Miss Winter, 
with instructions that she should meet the company 
in Chicago a week later, and from this business he 
hurried on to that of the theatre. 


CHAPTER X. 

Scarcely had John King departed, before the bell- 
boy announced himself and presented Judith with 
seven letters. Five of them were complimentary, 
and one was from a mooning swain who proposed 
elopement, and implored her for her autograph pho- 
tograph. One praised the turn of her chin and the 


John kiNG, manager. 


127 


length of her eyebrows. Another raved about her 
expressive lips and eyes. One studied mythology to 
liken her to all the goddesses, in turn, who had ever 
blessed or cursed a pagan world. Another letter 
ended with the most startling lines, intended to ex- 
press poetic feeling: 

Oh, tragic queen, enveloping my thought, 

Till all my burning brains with madness fraught, 

If of my own thy own would be a part, 

I’d bless the cursed shaft that hit my heart.” 

In great disgust, Judith threw this letter into the 
fire. “ The men are all fools !” she declared, with one 
of her sweeping assertions ; “ and the women are such 
vain simpletons, which makes the idiocy of the human 
race complete.” 

The sixth letter atoned for the other five, it being 
an intelligent and readable thing ; commending her 
powers as an actress, and ending with a delicately 
worded compliment to the woman. The writer de- 
clared it would give him “ the greatest delight to 
meet the young actress and to introduce her to his 
family, consisting of his mother and two sisters, who 
did not presume so far as he had done in expressing 
their admiration of her.” 

“ Well, that man is one of the worthy few, I sup- 
pose, for whom we live and strive ; and here is the 
last, which is from my dear madame,” with which she 
picked up madarae’s letter, hurriedly cutting the en- 
velope. “ Madame does write such a clear, strong 
hand, a type of her clear, strong soul,” with which she 
spread out the pages'upon her knee. They ran in 
madame’s usual erratic fashion as follows : 

My Dear Girl : Excuse the ugly correction, I 
was about to write Girl with a small “g,” just as 
though I had not been taught that capitals were pre- 


12 § 


John king, manager. 


ferred in all forms of address, like the headings of 
letters, etc., but immediately aberrated — I do not feel 
quite sure of my authority in the use of this word, 
but I choose to use it and maintain my rights to coin 
my own words. If I can make them more expressive 
than Webster and all other legal authority, it is a 
sure guarantee of my unusual versatility and intelli- 
gence in these matters, as it would be if I had rivaled 
Worth in creating a new gown. I want to tell you, 
my dear, that I have passed through a most trying 
ordeal, and have barely escaped with my life. Out 
here in this beastly country, that seems like the back- 
bone of the world, as its main features are bumps and 
hollows disposed in the most regular order that could 
be calculated upon to break the necks of the 
whole human race ; out here, I say, in the nastiest 
season of the nastiest year, the manager had the bold- 
ness to propose a ride, and I, the temerity to accept 
it. 

“ Why did I go, dear ? Well, I will tell you that I 
had a visit from Florence Winter yesterday, with 
a promise of the affliction being repeated to-day. Of 
the two evils, I inclined to the old aphorism so far as 
to prefer the least — that is, to having all the fat on me 
converted into butter by being pounced over the 
backbone of the world behind an old beast of a horse 
and a malicious manager, who rather enjoyed the pros- 
pect of bringing me back transformed, or deformed, 
to a second infliction of Florence Winter. 

“ Who is Florence Winter ? Well, I am mighty 
glad you do not know ; I hope you never will, except 
by the medium of my pen. 

“ To commence with, my dear, she is a pretty little 
thing, but that is the first ground of offence to be pre- 
ferred against her by a fat old lady like myself.” 

“ How madame does love to abuse herself,” pro- 
tested Judith. She is neither old nor fat,” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


129 

But, Judith dear, I must lay claim to some intel- 
ligence. I at least know how to act, and Florence is 
incapable of acting, only in one way ; that is, stupid. 

“ She is so round, so pink and white, so dainty, so 
small in body and soul, one loses all patience with 
her. She is so small, that she can get into all sorts of 
places where she has no business to be, but then she 
is a cunning, managing little creature, that one can’t 
get rid of without killing her. She lives by such a 
few principles, that those few principles are her whole 
entity, and as one objects to those few principles from 
first to last, one does not know exactly what to do to 
escape her. She clings like lichen ; is sly as a 
mouse, and as innocent and soft as a kitten in the cor- 
ner. She seems so out of the way by her incapacity 
to understand, and yet by that very capacity to not 
understand or to misunderstand, she is always bother- 
some and intrusive. You would always like to hit one 
of her delicate shams, but being aware that every 
other sham is dependent upon the one you most des- 
pise, you know that an honest knock in the right 
direction would be a general exposition of all her 
frauds, and she would go to pieces like a house of 
cards. 

Let me illustrate this scandalous information con- 
cerning one of my sex. I feel this letter is a purely 
feminine decoction, because it is a scratch on the 
back of a woman by another woman’s hand. We are 
such nasty, spiteful creatures to each other ; but in 
this case I shall unburden my mind, get relieved of 
my spleen, and make a good attempt to justify my 
statements. There are people who are born to be 
talked about, because they can never be talked at 
or to. 

Florence is such a person. 

“ The first season Savelli came to this country, I had 


130 JOHN KING, manager. 

the honor to be one of the company ; that handsome 
boy, Bell, was with us, and a great favorite of the 
young star. Into this company came Florence Win- 
ter one day, to intrigue and to spoil everything be- 
tween them. Bell was so big and generous, Florence 
Winter found ample surface for her shots, I suppose ; 
however she managed to undermine Bell, I cannot tell, 
of course, unless it was that Savelli was like some 
tremendous beast incapable of judging the character 
of the small things under his feet, — yes, that was it, — 
he was like an elephant with a mouse in his manger ; 
the mouse crawled up his trunk, and fuss, and storm, 
and swear as he would, in elephant fury, the little 
mouse stuck and nipped and exasperated the big 
beast, until John King assumed the management of 
the company. He saw at once that the elephant had 
a diseased trunk. Somehow, without alarming it, he 
caught hold of Miss Mousey by the tail. She squealed 
and squirmed, and the elephant roared tremendously, 
so that the whole company was petrified with horror 
by the quarrel. But John King is a very wonderful 
man as manager ; he has a cool, clear head, a strong 
will and a steady hand. He pulled Miss Mousey out 
and sent her out of the company. It cost the man- 
ager something, namely, myself and Bell were de- 
manded as sort of a propitiatory sacrifice. 

“ Nevertheless, John King, undertaking to be show- 
man for an elephant, preferred that he should not be 
wandering around with a mouse wriggling inside his 
trunk. 

“ Why do I say such things ? well, if you knew 
Florence Winter, you would want to coin new words 
into the English language to express something I can 
only express by Small Sham. 

“ Oh, about my ride. Well I went, I saw, but I did 
not conquer ; there was nothing the manager showed 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


tne worth conquering, except spily trees, and a ridge 
of rock. As I have no taste for quarrying and am 
not a farmer or pioneer, I said ‘ for God’s sake, sir, 
take me back to the City, as the bristling barbarism 
of the earth reconciles me to look once more upon the 
faces of my kind, however ugly they may be.’ ‘ I 
thought you might enjoy seeing the country, Madame 
De Sequeria,’ he said, as if he was reproaching me for 
having committed the unpardonable sin. ‘ The coun- 
try,’ I replied meekly, ‘ is all right, no doubt, but the 
aspect is so unfavorable at this particular season and 
in this particular region, I find it extremely depress- 
ing to my esthetic spirit,’ adding, ‘ would you mind 
hurrying to town ? I have an engagement with a 
friend.’ I had revised my conclusion so far as to 
now consider Florence Winter the least of two evils, 
and intended to apologize to myself for lack of proper 
descretion, by taking her to dinner, in case we should 
arrive, naming the cause of my gratitude. 

“ My engagement closes here next week, when 1 
hope to have the pleasure of meeting you in Chicago. 
Already I have written so much, I will then tell you 
about my dinner with Miss Winter, and until then, I 
am “ Your loving 

“ Oliva De Sequeria.” 


CHAPTER XL 

While Judith was engaged with her correspond- 
ence, John King entered the box office of the theatre, 
where he found Savelli about to leave it. 

“ Can you give me a few moments of your time, 
Alessandro ?” he inquired, “ I just called at your door 
to inform you that I had telegraphed for Miss Win- 
ter.” Although it had been at Savelli’s own sugges- 


13 ^ 


JOHN KING, MANAGER, 


tion he had done this, perhaps the manager was too 
well acquainted with the young actor’s impulsive 
temper not to understand that the news would be far 
from pleasing to him. Alessandro turned upon King 
a sharp look of frowning annoyance. 

“ You do not look well pleased, Alessandro ! Most 
delightful and inconsistent of men ! come here, if you 
will, and let us smoke it out together.” With which 
King offered his cigar case, and they both sat down. 
King, very nonchalantly elevating his feet to a table, 
and holding the smoking cigar between his fingers, as 
he purposely avoided the wrathful glance fixed upon 
him. He sat thus, with his eyes resting upon the 
red end of the dainty roll of tobacco as if in the smok- 
ing coal was contained the most profound problems 
of his life. 

“ Why this hurry. King ?” inquired Alessandro in a 
soft, suppressed voice, that was more ominous than the 
rolling thunder of the deepest base. It suggested to 
the listener, who knew him well, the calm before the 
tempest. 

“ I supposed of course it was a thing you desired ; 
you asked me yourself the other night if she could not 
come back,” whereupon King placed his cigar between 
his lips, drawing long puffs, and his face and head were 
completely enveloped in smoke. 

“ But why did you not come to me before you sent 
for her ? Why in thunder, King, did you not come to 
me ?” inquired Alessandro, wrathfully, his voice and 
frown deepening as he spoke. 

“ Why, my dear Alessandro,” commenced King, 
pinching the corners of his mouth to keep back an 
amused smile, when a man expresses a wish, I do 
not think it is necessary that he should repeat him- 
self in order to be properly understood.” 

To tell the truth, Alessandro Savelli did not know 
why he wanted or did not want Florence Winter. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


133 


Absorbed so completely as he was in his art, he did 
not bestow much attention to, or have any particular 
understanding of the lives of women. To him they 
were as so many ugly or delightful figures moving 
through his dream. Of course a man of his dignified 
character and so wholly indifferent to the sex, was 
the mark for many arrows, that had always re- 
bounded to the injury of the delicate archer, until 
Florence Winter, by the very force of ignorance, in- 
truded herself into his confidence. She at first suc- 
ceeded in engaging his eye, and then by her boldness 
she managed to fix his noble attention upon her help- 
lessness and inefficiency. Perhaps, in a vague way, 
he stooped to consider her availability to other men 
less honorable than himself. His nature was as chiv- 
alrous as a fifteenth century knight’s, and whenever 
he discovered that a woman was being misused by 
one of his sex he fiew to her defense, and like an en- 
raged tiger stretched out his broad, strong arm as a 
shield. It happened often that a woman more worthy 
than Florence Winter went to the wall beneath the 
actor’s eye without his discovering the cause of her 
misfortune, as in the case of Andre Doree. He was 
by nature so abstracted from such scenes, as to be un- 
acquainted with the signs by which such an intrigue 
could be recognized. He had said to John King on 
the sealing of their partnership : “ Remember, King, 
that I will never have one of those damned affairs in 
the company.” But as Savelli never peaked or pryed 
into the manager’s business, the “ damned affairs ’’ 
could be very easily managed without his knowledge. 

He commenced by defending Florence Winter, be- 
cause she was weak and pretty, from the possible 
chance of ruin, and to teach her some of the things 
she did not know, when he found that that comprised 
about everything he knew in the line of acting, there- 
fore he taught her everything that she knew in the 


134 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


profession. This sort of a guardianship bred utter 
dependence upon her part, and a sense of responsibil- 
ity upon his. She exasperated and belittled him 
quite as much as he strove to educate and enoble her. 
She wrought upon his nervous, impressionable nature 
to such an extent, that he was often quite beside him- 
self with fury, without really recognizing the cause 
of the trouble. To-day he was unjust with her in his 
impatience. She wept or smiled, or moved like an 
automaton at his bequest, so that to-morrow he was 
unjust to himself in his effort to support her against 
public ridicule and his own excitable temper. John 
King having seen the position of affairs between 
them at the outset of their career, had calculated 
upon Miss Winter’s demoralizing effects upon the 
actor as a man and an artist. Accordingly he found 
a way to dislodge the enemy of Alessandro’s peace, 
and to send the pretty little monkey about her busi- 
ness in another direction. Nothwithstanding this, he 
knew that she made frequent appeals to Alessandro’s 
purse, which was always freely open to her, and that 
she attempted to excite his sympathy by piteous little 
rehearsals in ink of the woes that she endured. 
Hence, Alessandro’s impulsive request that she should 
be sent for to fill Dorse’s place, John King knew was 
likely to be regretted on later consideration ; but 
King was beginning to feel a deep stirring in his 
strong nature, like the delicate trills and runs in the 
prelude to a mighty theme, the intoxicating music of 
a new love, whose measure must not be broken in his 
hungry heart by the cool and more careless touch of 
Alessandro’s fingers. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


135 


CHAPTER XII. 

The company on closing its San Francisco engage- 
ment, made a quick move to Chicago, where they ar- 
rived on the tenth of April. The manager was so busy, 
that he had scarcely any opportunity for extended con- 
versation with Judith Kent. He satisfied himself that 
the friendship between Savelli and Judith made no 
progress toward intimacy, and so rested upon his 
spurs, or, more correctly, he fell to dreaming of her, 
as he had done but once before in his life, taking the 
sweet of it with the dainty sips of a^connoisseur in the 
art of loving well. He enjoyed all the aspects along 
the route to a destination which he hoped would 
bring his world-weary soul all the delights that the 
journey promised. He managed his time so as to be 
quite frequently present at rehearsals, v/here not a 
look, a word, that passed between the lovely young 
woman and the handsome star but was the subject 
of his critical attention. He did not once impose 
himself between them as a check to their free inter- 
course. Upon the evening before their arrival in 
Chicago, John King became by the merest accident a 
spectator to one of those charming little upsets by 
which Satan loves at times to checkmate and torment 
his votaries. 

It happened that he wished to speak to Alessandro 
between the acts and hurried to his dressing-room 
for this purpose, before the actor should be recalled. 
The production given was the romantic play of “ The 
Lady of Lyons.” It had reached the pathetic scene 
of the Lady’s humiliation, and Claude’s repentance. 
Judith had been doing some magnificent work, that 
had brought her most enthusiastic recognition frotn 
the house, 


136 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


The girl seemed inspired ; it looked almost as if 
she was destined to step before the star in public 
favor, which could not, from a business point of view, 
be countenanced at this stage of the game. He well 
knew that Savelli could not endure this sort of thing, 
even though the victor was a lady and his beloved 
friend. He was far too ambitious a man to play 
second parts to my lady Judith before the world. 

John King was well pleased at this turn of affairs, 
that was likely, more than anything else which could 
happen, to bring about a rupture of friendship. 

Impatient to see the effect of the performance upon 
the star before he should be called forth in the next 
scene, he hastened to Savelli’s room. He found 
Pietro alone, fumbling over dresses, and inundated 
by make-up and wigs, with which he had littered the 
floor in order to produce the right article for his 
young master’s present use. 

“ Where is Savelli, Pietro ?” inquired John King, 
in abrupt haste. 

I don’t know,” replied Pietro, looking up from his 
task of assorting and arranging : “ He has just 
stepped out a moment.” 

John King crossed the stage with the intention of 
offering Judith his earnest congratulations, when 
through the open door of the dressing-room he 
beheld that young lady in the arms of Alessandro. 
Her face raised for his caress was full of the be- 
witching beauty of youth, and was stamped with an 
expression of adoration ; her eyes, like great lamps 
illuminating its white intensity, burned with the 
passionate fires of her heart. Like a man who comes 
in a spirit of elation to visit a friend, and receives 
from him an unexpected blow in the face, John King 
turned about, muttering savagely as he left the stage, 
“ I might have known it. There is only Hell in this 
thing for me,” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


137 


The old strong-, passionate King blood was on fire ; 
he did not seek to restrain its mad work in his brain. 
Tortured ^by his disappointment in the woman he was 
beginning to believe in and to love so passionately, 
he walked straight out of the theatre, after stopping 
at the box office for the receipts of the house, and so 
on to the hotel. He looked like a man of ice, with 
his strong, clear cut features as hard as a stone, until 
he reached the privacy of his own room, when he 
cast his hat upon the sofa, threw off his overcoat, and 
thrusting a cigar between his lips, with his hands 
pushed into his pockets, he strode across the room, 
where he stood by a window looking drearily out into 
the drizzly night. The electric lights flashed over 
the hurrying forms passing on the walks below, and 
the constant coming and going at the hotel was 
flanked by a line qf carriages in waiting at the door. 
As he stood thus, he reflected bitterly upon the fate 
of some men to be so much loved. Why was it, he 
wondered, that the divine nectar of the god, that the 
sacred fire filched from heaven, only served to scorch 
his heart without exciting a kindred flame. Where 
had he missed the charm of charming ? He was no 
longer an awkward boy. He now walked to the mir- 
ror to survey the flattering reflection John King pre- 
sented to himself ; the form he looked upon was 
robust and manly in its proportions, and most be- 
comingly and elegantly clad. The face was frown- 
ing and pale at present, but the strong forehead, the 
clear, penetrating eyes, the well-set nose, the line of 
healthy color marking the clean shaven cheeks, the 
square chin slightly cleft in the centre, the firm, clear 
cut mouth well filled with short, white teeth— cer- 
tainly less favored men were more fortunate than he. 
Twigging the end of his mustache savagely, he 
wheeled sharply about, commencing again to pace 
the floor. As he did so, a large, scju^re envelope 


138 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

caught his eye, that was lying upon the table. With 
some suspicion of its contents, as such missives came 
quite frequently to both him and Savelli, he picked it 
up, running a paper cutter through the thin edge of 
the envelope. He withdrew a photograph of a very 
pretty girl folded inside a sheet of closely written 
paper. 

He scarcely ever took the trouble to read these 
things, which bubbled up from the scum of the pro- 
fession ; but being in a frame of mind so tormenting, 
he was glad of any momentary occasion for diversion. 
So he moved nearer to the electric globe in the centre 
of the room, and standing beneath it with the letter 
raised in his right hand, the other still in his pocket, 
and his cigar between his lips, he deliberately and 
slowly made himself the master of its contents. 

“ Dear Mr. King : 

Is it possible that you can do anything for me ? I 
am very unfortunate, this particular season, being out 
of work. The last manager skipped with all the sal- 
ary of the company, I have nothing saved, my salary 
not being as much as I should have received, and I am 
in a dreadful straight. I really do not know what I 
shall do, I have pawned my wardrobe to the last gar- 
ment, and my shoes are so thin that I have to wear 
paper soles to keep my feet from the ground. 

“ For God’s sake, if you cannot do anything for me, 
send me a little money.” 

“ Drink or opium,” was King's dry and caustic com- 
ment, as he laid down the letter to take up the photo- 
graph. 

“ But she is only a girl, a foolish girl of seventeen 
or thereabouts.” He stood for a few moments con- 
sidering the case, as he studied the photograph in his 
hand. For some re^son^ he was mojre deeply moy^^ 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


139 


by this circumstance than it was his custom to feel 
when presented with such petitions from the un- 
happy waifs of the profession. Generally he felt 
these things as the basest kind of imposture. But 
something in the pitiful freshness of the girlish face 
touched him deeply to-night. Finally, he concluded 
to send her a letter- and a little assistance. In accord- 
ance with this conclusion, he seated himself at the 
writing desk, made happy for a few moments with 
something pleasanter than his reflections upon Judith 
Kent and Savelli, and scribbled the following lines : 

“ My Dear Miss B : 

“ I am deeply moved by the pathetic tale of your 
unfortunate condition. As an actress we do not know 
you, but as a woman, we are so truly sorry we en- 
close a check for fifty dollars, that can be drawn at 
any bank in the city. It is all we can possibly do for 
you, and it will be entirely useless for you to make 
any further appeal. 

“ Yours respectfully, 

“John King.” 

Enclosing and addressing the letter with his usual 
despatch, he called the bell-boy, and sent it at once 
upon its way, ordering at the same time a bottle of 
wine. 

The next morning was a busy one of preparation 
for departure en route for Chicago. The manager 
purposely avoided meeting Judith Kent, and to Sa- 
velli his manner was cool and crusty. He looked so 
haggard and pale, however, every one noticed his ap- 
pearance and not a few commented upon it. 

The company had been so hard worked, that a 
little rest of a few hours seemed to be quite neces- 
sary, so that they arrived in Chicago in the . evening. 
During all the time he had not spoken to Judith, and 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


14a’ 

although he had not placed himself within speaking 
distance, she could but see that he purposely avoided 
her. 

“ I wonder what has crossed this man ?” was her 
mental query. “ Is he going to be nasty to me again ? 

I never did see a man who had so many moods and 
humors.’* 

The next day a dress rehearsal was called for 
Othello. Judith who was to play the part of Des- 
demona, was so carried away with the idea of it she 
could not sleep, but got out of bed in the middle of 
the night to rehearse her lines, greatly to Victorine’s 
disgust, who occupied a couch in the alcove. With a 
bed lamp in one hand, she strode up and down the 
centre of the floor rehearsing in a voice of suppressed 
tragedy, the last terrible scene. 

“ Mademoiselle,” inquired Victorine in a fault find- 
ing tone, “ I thought Desdemona died in bed, 
whereas mademoiselle dies on her feet in the middle 
of the night.” 

“ Oh, are you awake, Victorine ?” 

“ Mercy ! Mademoiselle I how could one sleep ? I 
hear people disturbed and moving in the next room.” 

“ How very childish and stupid of me !” responded 
Judith, penitently, taking the hint as she set her bed 
lamp upon the table and got into bed again. 

One little understands, unless intimately associated 
with dramatic work, the indefatigable labor for its 
success. John King’s sentimental reflections were 
after all the pathetic asides of his busy career. So 
much, everything in fact, depended upon the manage- 
ment for the financial success of the company. More 
and more, however, Savelli relieved him of the tedious 
strain that had attended previously the consideration 
of inside work. The young actor now assumed the 
entire charge of rehearsals and stage -settings. The 
work of this man was continual and phenomenal in 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. i^t 

its character. Judith, and in fact all the company, 
must come up to his standard or they were booked 
for a sharp rebuke from the beloved lips of Ales- 
sandro whom they all worshiped. 

Judith scarcely spent an idle minute except when 
she slept and ate her meals. She rose early, never 
later than eight o’clock; took her bath and her 
breakfast, and when not occupied with her studies 
was accustomed to occupy herself with her corres- 
pondence or by entertaining callers. There was al- 
ways some one seeking admittance between the hours 
of ten and eleven ; or she must visit and dine with 
Alessandro and John King, in company, perhaps, of 
another lady of the company, who served to act as 
as sort of a chaperone to the young woman, so much 
flattered and sought after at this stage of her career. 
Everywhere the lionizing of Savelli had to be con- 
tributed to by her graceful person, as an individual 
of secondary importance only to the great tragedian 
himself ; and sometimes, as in San Francisco, it looked 
as though she was likely to contest the honors of the 
stage with the star. 

According to his agreement, John King met Miss 
Winter at the station in order to conduct her to the 
hotel, and from thence to the dress rehearsal before 
the performance. 

On his way out upon this errand he unexpectedly 
encountered Judith upon the street. He raised his hat 
in cool civility and was about to pass her with this 
careless recognition, when she detained him by call- 
ing after him, “ Please stop, Mr. King — for one mo- 
ment — just for one moment ; that 1 may be assured 
you are a real being and not a phantom man !” 

He turned impatiently toward her, standing with 
his hat raised in his aristocratic hand, his manner 
seeming to be respectful to her rather from force of 
habit than any real reverence it manifested. 


142 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


What did you want of me, Miss Kent ?” he in- 
quired curtly. “ I must confess that I am in a hurry 
this morning.” 

“ You are again angry with me, I do not know why, 
Mr. King, and I would like too. I would rather 
humble myself to my friends, than they should look 
at me as though they despised me. I would like to 
have you tell me what I have done to offend you.” 

“You are a very childish woman, Judith,” he re- 
plied with a slight paling of his cheeks that revealed 
to her, in spite of himself, the beat of some strong 
emotion in him. His eyes held her imploring gaze 
without flinching in their steady, critical stare into 
her sweet, pleading face ; while his lips were drawn 
half scornfully down at the corners. The expression 
of his face was so unmistakably that of contempt, 
that a little of the grieved and offended dignity of 
the woman supplanted the impulse of the child in 
Judith’s variable nature, as with a flushed face and 
flashing eyes she drew herself up with an air of being 
offended and bowed herself haughtily before him. 

“ Excuse me, Mr. King,” she said, “ I will not detain 
you this morning or hereafter ever again,” with 
which statement she turned abruptly and left him 
upon the walk. He stood for some moments looking 
after her departing figure, the pain of regret soften- 
ing the scorn of his proud face, but he replaced his 
hat upon his head saying, “It is well that fury will 
expend itself in her soft little woman’s heart before 
night. She is too charming and sweet and happy to 
be cruel to anything excepting herself, one day.” He 
continued to muse as he wended his way slowly to 
the station : “ One day she may be very cruel to her- 
self, if she is not more considerate in her ways.” 

Judith entering the theatre half an hour later gave 
a hurried glance at the busy performance already go- 
ing on upon the stage, among a chattering, joking. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


143 


moving company of scene shifters, stage carpenters 
and property men, all pushing forward their various 
lines of business to completion. She had no sooner 
entered her dressing room and given directions to 
Victorine in regard to the arrangement and order of 
her gowns, than there came a knock upon the door. 
Judith was in no mood for interruption, but upon Vic- 
torine’s opening it, there stood revealed to her aston- 
ished gaze the very welcome features of Madame De 
Sequeria. With a cry of joy she sprang into madame’s 
outstretched arms, “ Oh my dear ! dear Olivia !” cried 
the excitable, impulsive girl, patting her face and 
holding it between her hand as she threw back her 
head to view the welcome features of her friend. 
“ How delighted I am, Olivia ! and how sweet in you 
to come to me at this time when I am so situated as 
to be in need of your advice and sympathy. To think 
it is your own dear self, and you never told me when 
you expected to arrive." This declaration was fol- 
lowed by another expressive squeeze in the girl’s 
warm arms. 

“Judith dear, let me take off my bonnet," panted 
madame after her vigorous shaking. “ Perhaps you 
are not aware, my child, that you are creating a panic 
in flowers and feathers." Judith unfastened her 
wraps and laid the bonnet on the table. 

“ Now I can see you," said madame, “ you look as 
if you had been exceptionally well treated, but I 
hope you have not run into useless expense, Judith, 
in order to procure those roses and that becoming 
plumpness. There are two things in which you cannot 
cheat yourself without great detriment to all your in- 
terests as an actress. That is embonpoint and your 
board bill. Look at me, Judith, I am an illustrious 
example of the demoralizing effect of a contented 
mind and an excellent digestion. Nothing is so con- 
ducive to our charm as women as a touch of dys- 


144 


JOHN KING, MANAGEI^. 


pepsia and a real pronounced case of heart complaint. 
That’s right, I thank you for a chair ; oh, have 
you discovered any new corn eradiator ; don’t wear 
French heels, j udith, they have a tendency to squeeze 
the toes and enlarge the joints. What is the play ?” 

“ Othello,” Judith replies, as she turned to Victorine 
who had taken her station at the dressing-table in- 
dulging in broad, expansive smiles to witness so 
much genuine affection expressed between two 
women. Judith realized that the. announcement of 
the half hour would soon be made. “ Now, you dear- 
est and best of women !” she exclaimed, “ are you to 
sit here and see me make up, or will you betake 
yourself to visit Sandro ? He is very nervous, by the 
way, I met him as I came in, directing the setting of 
the first scene.” 

“ Well, I think,” madame replies, “ that every one 
is upset on such an important occasion as this ; I will 
not disturb Mr. Savelli just now. Will I be in the way 
if I watch from this corner your make-up and dress- 
ing ? I will promise not to talk, for you must be a 
trifle nervous yourself.” 

“There!” Judith exclaims, turning about with a 
braid of her bright hair twisted about her arm, “ I 
hardly dare confess it, but now you mention the fact, 
it relieves me to say that I am exceedingly nervous. 
You know,” she continues, breathlessly, “ how much 
more difficult, if possible, is a rehearsal than a per- 
formance.” 

“ I know !” madame says. “ A performance is a 
case of ‘ here goes,’ but at a rehearsal you can’t get the 
mechanical impetus.” 

“ That is it !” Judith consents, “ mechanical impe- 
tus just expresses it. Yes, Olivia, dear, you may sit 
in that corner, only don’t be too critical just now, 
judge of everything from the front, don’t try to make 
sense out of my spasmodic and generally unfinished 


John king, manager. 


U5 


sentences. I think really, dear, that I feel better 
now after having made my confession, for I shall no 
longer feel — Victorine, where is that shoe horn ?— feel 
— feel — what was I about to say, Olivia ? There ! you 
see how — oh, I know, yes, compelled to restrain my- 
self.” 

“ No, Judith, dear, don’t restrain yourself, and don’t 
leave your nose so white,” madame says, in practical 
and observant fashion. 

“ Is it too white ?” Judith inquired critically, turn- 
ing her head from side to side to observe the exact 
shade of her straight, clear cut, little proboscis ; hold- 
ing the rouge in one hand, and a hare’s foot between 
the thumb and forefinger of the other, she made little 
graceful dabs at the end of it which gave it the re- 
quired artistic finish, and brought an exclamation of 
approval from madame. 

“ It is such a pleasure to see you make up, Judith, 
dear ; you do it so daintily. 

Do I ?” responded Judith. She turned her head 
over her shoulder, smiling fondly at madame, the 
teeth glistening like frosted lines of ice between the 
red carnation of her lips. She then continued the 
difficult process of dressing, and for some time be- 
stowed her undivided attention upon Victorine, who 
assisted her. 

Things went badly at first, but the manifestations 
of impatience which Judith exhibited were pacified 
by Victorine, and excused by madame as the natural 
consequence of the occasion. Finally, when she had 
expressed her positive belief that there were no shoes 
for her feet, stating that Victorine had purposely re- 
moved them to some remote corner, they appeared 
before her very eyes upon the dressing-table, when 
she properly begged Victorine’s pardon, and the shoes 
were placed upon the aristocratic feet of a trembling 


146 JOHN KING, manager. 

Desdemona, who then stood up for madame s inspec- 
tion. 

The dress was not the conventional Venetian affair, 
but a beautiful artistic arrangement of draperies, 
which had been designed by a well known artist, 
and was most becoming to the slender figure. Ma- 
dame moved forward from her corner now, approval 
written on every line of her features. 

“ You like it, don’t you, Olivia ?” Judith asks. 

“ A dream ! a dream ! if your performance is up to 
the artistic effect of your gown, you will be perfec- 
tion.” 

“ You are such a dear to say nice things to me !” 
and Judith puts a cold little hand within madame’s. 
“ Shall we go out and see what is going on ? That 
scene must be nearly over !” 

As they leave the dressing-room together, J udith 
hears her name called, but in the semi-darkness of the 
stage is unable to discern anyone ; the voice however 
is Savelli’s. “ Yes,” she answers. Then the voice 
grows more distinct. “Oh, I see you now,” Judith 
declares. “ It was so dark that for a moment you 
were invisible. Here is Madame De Sequeria, Mr. 
Savelli, if you can discover her in the gloom of this 
setting ; this is my dear Olivia ; or more formally, 
Madame De Sequeria.” 

“ Oh, I am altogether too pronounced to be put out 
of sight,” she responded, as she offered her hand to 
Othello. 

“Although it is night without stars, we are happy 
to make you welcome to Venice, my dear madame,” 
responded Savelli, shaking her warmly by the hand, 
ai^'*expression of grave humor lighting his majestic 
countenance. 

“ It gives me great pleasure to meet you again, Mr. 
Savelli, and also to correct your statement. I see two 


John king, managiJK. 147 

very brilliant stars so near each other, it suggests con- 
junction of planets.” 

Savelli was about to excuse himself, when Judith, 
with a little hesitancy in her voice, “ Will you look 
at me, Mr. Savelli ?” she inquired anxious for his 
approval or criticism before the opening of the scene. 

“Certainly !” he replied, with that large and gentle 
grace of movement with which he invested the 
character of Othello, as he put out his hand to con- 
duct her to the centre of the stage. 

Madame watches them as they pass before her, such 
charming figures representing the dreamy grandeur 
and heroism of the past. 

“Divinely matched !” she exclaims enthusiastically, 
holding her breath on her bosom. 

Standing beneath the uncertain glare'of the bunch- 
light, Savelli bent down his great, kingly head with 
its glorious crown of glistening curls showered about 
his face and forehead beneath the white' turban ; and 
as she, in all the witchery of her beaming, bright- 
eyed, red-lipped youth, exquisitely costumed in the 
rare old silks, raises her sweet eyes imploringly to 
the smiling tenderness, there seemed to beam upon 
her from sombre eyes, black with impenetrable 
shades, the light of his great soul, like the radiance 
of a new moon in an inky sky. 

“You are perfect in the artistic treatment of your 
gown,” he exclaims with mild enthusiasm, raising his 
, hands so that the long line of yellow satin falls back 
' from the tunic sleeves to the high lacings of the Vene- 
tian boots one moment, then touches her hair lightly 
with the tips of his fingers. “Your own beautiful 
hair, you wear it naturally ; I like it, my fair, my ex- 
quisite Desdemona.” Once more he takes Judith’s 
cold, trembling hand in his broad palms with that 
.beseeching tenderness, so smiling, so warm, and yet 
touched with an air of haughty distance that makes 


14^ JOHN KING, MANAGER* 

it most alluring to the fancy and affection of the 
girl upon whom he bestows so much favor. 

“ You are cold and nervous,” he continues, in his 
rich, bass voice, softly modulated to express such 
flattering concern. 

Madame De Sequeria ! Miss Kent has lost her 
stage feet ; being an older woman at the business, I 
hope you may restore her somewhat by diverting her 
mind.” With which he bowed and was about to move 
away to give some final directions to the setting of 
a piece of scenery, when his eyes rested upon a fall- 
ing “ drop ” directly over J udith’s head. He snatched 
her light figure in such sudden and startling haste 
that Judith utters a cry of amazement ; the next mo- 
ment there is a heavy crash behind them and he has 
set the girl upon her feet again. 

“ Did I hurt you, my dear ? I had no time to 
speak.” 

“ I am very grateful,” she responds, breathlessly, 
as she looks behind her with a little thrill of horror 
at the thought of the narrow escape from a very 
serious accident. 

“ My God ! you might have been killed !” broke in 
madame hysterically. 

“ But we were not, madame,” responded Savelli, 
‘‘and I can restore your protegee to you without even 
a scratch on her gown,” 

“ Which is so much better than having to appear 
without legs,” commences madame, with irrelevant 
reference to her own misfortune previously rehearsed 
to Judith. At this moment John King entered the 
theatre followed by Florence Winter, whom he con- 
ducted to a seat ; an instant later, Madame De Se- 
queria madeher way through a stage box to the audi- 
torium. When she saw John King, she smiled, and 
then observing his companion, a look of cold disap- 
proval froze her features into a dead calm. In fact, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


149 


madame looked as thoug-h she had just come out of 
an ice-box with a thunder cloud fixed on her brow. 

“ Oh, dear Madame De Sequeria !” cried Florence, 
effusively, stretching out both hands, with eyes so in- 
tently fixed upon the gesture as not to observe 
madame’s appearance toward her, “ I am so pleas- 
antly surprised.” 

“ Are you ?” responded madame, coolly, who knew 
that Florence’s ardor never got any nearer the heart 
than her own pretty lips and the ears of her listeners. 
Madame looked down imperiously upon the vain little 
beauty, so daintily done up in furs and all sorts of 
becoming gewgaws that would accentuate the sunny 
ripples and curls of her blonde hair, the dimpled pink 
of her cheeks, and the sparkle of her blue eyes. 

“ I am not surprised at anything,” said madame, “ I 
am astonished. Miss Winter, that you can wear yourself 
out with such vulgar emotion ; how do you do, Mr. 
King ?” and she put out her gloved hand rather 
stiffly. 

Florence, who always had some man in tow,” was 
too much engaged with a young reporter to whom she 
was rehearsing her dramatic conquests and hopes, to 
be the least impressed by madame’s contemptuous 
behavior. 

“ I will sit down with her and save his literary 
fame, for it is quite evident that he has no idea of 
the professional lies that innocent can tell. If he re- 
ports half he hears, he will lose cast among his kind, 
and his hopes will be blasted in their first feather. 

“ Miss Winter, if this seat is not engaged at your side 
I will avail myself of the privilege of a little chat,” 
said Madame, seating herself with a changeful touch 
of urbanity. 

“ Mr. King, you are looking exceedingly well for a 
man nearly forty ; how do you like Miss Kent ?” 

“She has filled the bill,” replies John King, who 


150 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


recognizes that madame is not in the most amiable 
frame of mind, and makes an excuse to leave the 
two women, preferring the luxury of a quiet seat in 
another part of the theatre, where he can watch the 
appearance of Judith without the interruption of their 
aimless chatter or petty quarrels. 

There seems to be considerable interest manifested 
by the small audience of critics and newspaper men, 
as Judith steps down before the grouping composed 
of the duke and senators. Madame notices this with 
an emotion of pardonable pride in the appearance of 
her charming, friend. Nods of congratulations sent in 
the direction of a handsome, distinguished looking 
man, madame concludes indicate the artist who has 
designed the gown ; and now the pleasant tones of 
Judith’s voice reached the audience. She is putting 
much meaning into the lines. 

“ Who in the world is she ?” sniffs Florence, super- 
ciliously. “ I see she got scorched by a Western 
paper, — literally roasted.” 

“ She is a lady,” snaps madame, “ a rara avis in this 
profession.” 

“ What poor taste in a gown,” goes on Florence, 
turning up her spiteful little nose. “And I really 
never saw Savelli half so ugly before.” 

The reporter on the left commences to scribble, 
while Florence talks and madame criticises. 

What a pity you are too small for the part, Flor- 
ence.” 

King, from the back of the theatre leaned forward 
with his elbow resting upon the arm of the chair, his 
fingers twisting the ends of his mustache thoughtfully, 
his brow knit and his eyes fixed upon the stage. As 
the curtain falls upon the first act, madame makes her 
way to Judith’s dressing-room, to find her listening at- 
tentively to some direction from Savelli ; as he leaves 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 151 

the room, Judith turns to madame and asks anx- 
iously : 

“ Is it anywhere near the right conception, Olivia, 
dear ?” 

“ Quite perfect, so far,” madame responds. “ They,” 
madame refers to the special audience, “ are saying 
nice things about both you and Savelli. .You are 
tired, Judith and she adds, “it will be a hard day 
for you, dear, but just think of your relief and happi- 
ness when the performance this evening is over.” 

“ Followed by the misery of reading the criticisms 
to-morrow,” sighs Judith. 

“ Nonsense ! nonsense !” remonstrates madame, as 
.she turns to leave the room. “ Do try, dear, and cul- 
tivate the habit of thinking better of Judith Kent; 
there, by by, your most trying scenes have yet to 
come.” 

Madame returns once more to her seat beside Flor- 
ence Winter. The rehearsal drew to a close about 
five o’clock. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

At last the season has been brought to a successful 
close. The future presented the glowing attraction 
to the young actress of an ocean voyage and delight- 
ful sojourn at London, or a few weeks in company 
with the persons in whom she was most deeply inter- 
ested. In the midst of hurry of active preparation, 
she was interrupted one day by a request for a profes- 
sional interview with a very distinguished New York 
gentleman ; one, whose name, on being announced, 
was sufficient to set the girl’s heart in a flutter of de- 


152 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


lightful anticipation of the fateful prognostication of 
such a visit. There could be but one reason for the 
call — business — and with business in her head, and 
welcome shining in her lovely, dark eyes, she entered 
the parlor of the hotel, where she cordially extended 
her hands to her visitor. He rose, holding his hat 
behind him as he saluted her by bowing very low 
over the dimpled fingers that he held for some mo- 
ments warmly pressed in his own. 

“I have but little time to give you, sir,” she an- 
nounced in her own frank, impulsive, impolitic way ; 
when, observing that a slight frown of annoyance 
contracted the gentleman’s brow and that he appeared 
disconcerted by this remark, she seated herself gra- 
ciously before him, smiling “upon him so innocently, 
that his confusion appeared to increase with his con- 
templation of her. ~ 

Without allowing her secret eagerness to express 
itself openly, although her heart gave a great throb 
of excitement at the question, she managed to reply 
with a touch of diplomatic composure : 

“ Possibly, what is it ?” 

“ That you star next season.” 

At last the dream of every actress’s life was to be real- 
ized for her. Her work had won its way. It was evi- 
dent that she had attracted such attention as to be re- 
garded as a profitable speculation on the part of men 
able to control the means of her advancement. She 
sat for a few moments with eyelids so drooping as to 
conceal the flash of triumph which the traitorous 
color betrayed upon her burning cheek, while she 
thought, “John King might have done this thing for 
me,but for his cynical lack of confidence in my power 
to sustain the roles.” 

She remembered, with pardonable pride in Her vic- 
tory, that Savelli, even, had not believed in her as 
being sufficiently strong and original in her represen- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


153 


tative powers to be depended upon for long continued 
success. He spoke frequently of her “ surprisingly 
brilliant efforts ; of her phenomenal successes 
as if they were the transitory expressions of artistic 
fervor, rather than any well grounded methods calcu- 
lated to create and sustain a style. 

“I should certainly reach the height of my am- 
bition if I had the opportunity to appear as a leading 
light in my profession, but I am,” she continued, by 
the way of explanation, “ preparing for an European 
voyage. We will sail Saturday, and so I have less 
than a week to get to New York with all my porta- 
bles in shape.” 

That is a great despatch, indeed, for a lady, I 
should say,” responded her visitor, with an uneasy 
laugh and a shifting glance, that finally sought the 
toe of his boot, in a momentary gaze of abstract medi- 
tation. It was very evident he was deliberating some 
method of approach regarding the matter with which 
he was burdened and anxious to deliver himself. 

Do you go alone ?” he asked, with hesitation. 

“ Oh, no indeed ! in London or Paris alone ? I 
never visited either place before, so that I should be 
quite at loss to know what to do with myself alone.” 

“ Well, in these days of easy methods of travel, and 
numerous guides and guide-books, and the acquaint- 
ances one makes by the way, with the natural inde- 
pendence of a woman accustomed to such moves as 
are made in your profession — Oh, have you any en- 
gagement abroad ?” 

“ Not at all. We are off on a little pleasure trip for 
a few months.” 

“ And next season ? Have you signed any business 
contracts ?” 

“ Not at all yet.” 

I am very pleased to hear that it is so, as I have a 


154 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


proposition to make, which I humbly hope that you 
may consider with favor.” 

“ What are the conditions ?” She still managed to 
speak quietly and to behave toward her visitor with 
great dignity. 

“ The conditions mean the expenditure of some 
fifty thousand dollars, my dear !” He now spoke in the 
condescending tone of a middle-aged millionaire, “ We 
would form a syndicate to star you. I assure you we 
think it a profitable venture ; you have made yourself 
a place with the public already that only requires 
money to supplant many, if not every other, lady stars 
upon the American stage tb-day. You have your 
future entirely before you, and money shall not be 
wanting to make it exceptional. Miss Kent.” 

She raised her lovely eyes to his, full of the shining, 
happy light of gratitujde, to which the visitor re- 
sponded by a glance that was gracious and benign. 

‘‘ Am I worthy the venture of fifty thousand dol- 
lars ? It is quite a sum, is it not ? to spend upon a 
penniless actress — if I should fail to realize the ex- 
pectations of the company what compensation could 
be rendered for your loss and disappointment ?” she 
inquired. 

Out of the hollowness of his heart and corrup- 
tion of his worldly nature he entirely misapprehended 
her modest self depreciation. Leaning slightly fore- 
ward to lay his plump, white, be diamonded fingers 
lightly upon her knee, “ Does it matter,” he said, 
“ when the enterprise is in the interest of so lovely and 
gifted a young woman, if fifty thousand dollars are 
lost ? Her smiles and favors to anyone of us, would 
be considered ample compensation for twice that sum 
of money.” 

“Sir!” exclaimed Judith, rising haughtily, when 
she stood looking down in contempt upon her clean 
shaven, finely groomed, aristocratic visitor. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 1 55 

How have you dared to come here to me with so 
infamous a proposition !” 

“ Is it so unusual he interrupted with an attempt 
to sneer her down. 

“ I cannot tell,'’ she replied proudly, “ such men as 
you are the best judges of the case, I suppose, but 
hereafter, I can never remember your honor without 
recommending you in charity to the mercy of God as 
a vile old roue, and the contempt of every honest 
woman. I hope you may never have the audacity to 
appear in any theatre again where I may play.” She 
turned abruptly from him, leaving the room with an 
air of an offended empress, while her embarrassed 
and distinguished visitor, struggling to act the gentle- 
man, but feeling for once that he had played -the fool, 
stood bowing and smiling at her back. She had 
called him ‘ an old roue,’ a biting truth from the lips of 
a beautiful girl, which had cost him his vanity, while it 
impressed upon him the belief that money was not an 
omnipotent power with all women, 

Judith upon reaching the privacy of her own room, 
where Victorine was engaged in putting the last 
stitches into a becoming house jacket for her mistress, 
found Madame De Sequeria superintending the com- 
pletion of the garment, by suggesting the rearrange- 
ment of some of the ribbons about the neck and waist. 
The young girl stopped in the centre of the floor, fix- 
ing upon the two women such a frowning stare, that 
Victorine dropped the garment in amazement, while 
madame ran hastily toward her, catching her implor- 
ingly by both hands. 

“ Mercy, Judith ! what have you done ? Are you 
then so offended with your poor Olivia because she 
assists Victorine to make you charming ? No 1 no ! 
1 do not mean to say that, as you would be charming 
in anything, however ridiculous ; a hoop skirt, a mon- 


156 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


strous bustle, a cotton rag, and a lace veil tied around 
you, but you do look so furious.” 

“ It is not you, dear Olivia,” replied Judith, relaxing 
her frown a little, but I have been insulted T she pro- 
nounced the word slowly, and with such emphasis 
that madame gave a scream, dropping suddenly 
upon an ottoman. 

“ No ! no ! Judith, where ? when ? how did it hap- 
pen ? for Heaven’s sake, Victorine, will you lock the 
door.” 

“ No, Olivia, she need not lock the door. I can 
take care of myself, I should think.” 

“ And I should think you could not, if you manage 
to get yourself insulted,” declared madame, hysteri- 
cally. “ Insulted, why how ridiculous !” 

“Olivia, don’t be a fool ! there is nothing ridiculous 
about it at all ; it is humiliating.” The tears came 
into her eyes as she spoke, which she sought to conceal 
by putting her arms around madame’s waist and 
leaning her head against her shoulder. 

“ Humiliating !” consented madame, “ why it is so 
astounding I could summon courage to shoot a man 
who dares — Judith you have no bonnet on ; why you 
have managed to get yourself insulted bare-headed ; 
it must be an audacious clerk, or the proprietor of the 
hotel. You should have called me ; I understand 
their beastly ways so well, and I am no longer a girl 
of twenty. I have never been insulted since I had 
bunions. The last insult I ever received was when an 
insolent old meat-hasher wanted to pay me twenty 
dollars to appear in his advertisement for patent 
medicines. It is so funny, I must' tell you about it. 
I used to be quite diplomatic, and when he said 
twenty dollars, I thought perhaps he might mean 
twenty hundred, did you say two thousand dollars, sir ? 
It would be a great sacrifice on my part of course, I 
could not be expected to impair my health by taking 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

your medicine, but if you could manage to administer 
the required doses to my photographs without injury 
to the color of my eyes and hair, I have no doubt it 
would be of no particular disadvantage to me and a 
great benefit to you. ‘ After all,’ I soliloquised 
meekly, ‘ we are placed here in this world to benefit 
each other ; I might be persuaded to consider it for 
two thousand.’ 

“ ‘ Two thousand dollars !' the creature actually 
shrieked at me, ‘ why, madame, I am just starting in 
business ; I have’nt got two thousand dollars to my 
name ; besides, I consider it a generous offer. 

Judith was now in a better humor, and with smil- 
ing sarcasm related to her the incident of the honor- 
able Mister’s call. 

“ Fifty thousand !” mused madame ; “ Why, Judith, 
how impolitic ! It seems to me you might have, man- 
aged the affair more successfully. Fifty thousand ! 
why, my dear, you need not have allowed these fool 
men to have compromised you ; you could have kept 
the game like a “ catch if you can ” all in your own 
hands. It is not necessary, if men will spend money 
upon a woman, that she needs to prostitute herself ; 
this is a rare opportunity of your life which may 
never come to you again, Judith.” 

“ I hope it may not,” responded the girl, with im- 
perious scorn, as she rose from the ottoman. 

“ Well ! well !” mused madame, looking at the girl 
thoughtfully, “ you are a high-spirited little creature, 
to be sure, and in a moral sense, perhaps you are 
right. I do not know what I might have done at 
your age under similar circumstances. I never had 
the temptation offered ; I never seemed, in my palm- 
iest days, to have gotten much beyond the adoration of 
the gallery god and the college chaps who used some- 
times to shout when I left the theatre : “ There goes 
Olivia ! Hurrah for Olivia !” 


158 


JOHN KING, manager* 


You see, the dear, dead and gone De Sequeria was 
an immovable obstacle to my early successes, I could 
not in conscience divorce him, as he never drank, ate 
opium or ran after other women, and was very good to 
look at. He was a sort of lay figure, you see, suit- 
able for poses whenever I chose to set him up for 
public inspection. In private life he was always pas- 
sive and willing to be supported. There was a 
baron in the family who transmitted a tremendous 
amount of good looks and laziness that could never 
be Eradicated from the blood, and which finally from 
high living and inaction resulted in gout and early 
death to the entire race. You can well understand 
I had so much legitimate business on hand in those 
days I had no opportunity to consider illegitimate 
propositions, but I really think I should have felt con- 
strained to have acted just as you did this afternoon, 
if it had been anything less than fifty thousand dol- 
lars. However, there is but one practical way to 
look at the matter. You have spent fifty thousand 
dollars this morning on a point of honor.” 

“ My conscious purity is of inestimable value to me, 
Olivia,” replied Judith, gravely, to madame’s light 
banter 

“ We have to be practical, Judith, you know ; fifty 
thousand dollars means a great many opportunities, 
and I have known a woman to lose her character and 
never get a cent for it.” 

“ For shame, Olivia ! this is not a bit like you. 
We will change the subject if you please.” 

“ Nevertheless I must have the last word, like the 
parrot in the story, and I shall always insist that it 
was impolitic for a comparatively nameless actress to 
lose the opportunity of starring, and to send a man 
who had an honorable tacked to his name, with no 
open disgrace, and a million or so to his account, — yes, 


jfOHN KING, MANAGM. t^g 

sending^ the poor gentleman away with a full pocket 
and injured feelings, all on a point of honor." 

The two women looked at each other humorously 
for a moment, then burst into a hearty fit of laughter. 

The morning of departure dawned gray and chill. 
Olivia and Judith arrived at the pier early, Olivia 
declaring that “ she preferred being several hours too 
early rather than one minute too late." 

vSavelli and King followed, about one hour before 
sailing. Many friends had gathered to wish the party 
“ Bon Voyage," and together they held a composite 
reception, during which madame talked to every one, 
in the meantime keeping her weather eye fixed upon 
the luggage. The flaming posters with which she 
had decorated her trunk were a source of great 
trouble to her, as they were season after season ; she 
never seemed able to put them to their proper use, 
regardless of the fact that they stated quite plainly in 
large blue letters, “ Not Wanted", or “ Stateroom." 

In the midst of a tearful farewell with a very dear 
friend, madame’s face suddenly assumed an agonized 
expression as she recognized her steamer trunk, to 
which she was sure had been affixed the stateroom 
poster, suspended in mid-air to be ignominiousiy 
dropped to the hold. 

What was to be done ? Madame rushed forward, 
her hands outstretched as if desirous of wresting the 
trunk from the descending arm of the derrick for the 
purpose of clasping it to her bosom and bearing it 
away to her stateroom. 

“ Hi ! Hi !" she called to a sailor, what are they 
putting my trunk down there for ?" The sailor made 
no reply, and madame shrieked to the man at the 
helm, or rather at the engine, to desist operations. 
Her severe attitude carried conviction of a command, 
and the trunk was swung within reach of a porter. 


l6o JOHN KING, manager. 

“This is plainly marked ‘stateroom,*" exclaimed 
madame, striking an attitude and glaring furiously. 

“You are mistaken," the porter returned quietly. 

“ I have a pair of eyes in my head, and am able to 
read, this end is plainly marked ‘ stateroom.’ ” 

Further argument is impossible, for the shouts of 
the engineer accompanied by a volley of mild oaths 
informs them that they must either remove the trunk 
or let it go into the hold, as the work of loading was 
being delayed 

When at madame’s bidding the porter has un- 
shackled the precious trunk the ambiguous fact is re- 
vealed to her confused mind, that upon the end visi- 
ble to the porter she had carefully posted, “ Not 
Wanted," and upon the other end the stateroom 
poster was displayed. The trunk at last finding its des- 
tination she returns to her friends to explain that it 
“ was really an interrogation but had been taken as a 
final answer.' 

The warning bell rang ; the necessary tears were 
shed ; handkerchiefs were waved, but not until they 
had passed Liberty did Judith turn her eyes from the 
shore. 

The voyage was without other incident than that 
which usually characterizes all ocean travel. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“ We shall sight land. Miss Kent, about eight o’clock 
to-morrow morning," remarked John King, in a sotto 
voice aside at dinner. Savelli passed her a glass of 
wine, and so happened to be looking at them as they 
spoke, but it was evident he had not caught the im- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


l6l 

port of King’s words. “Well,” answers Judith apathet- 
ically, “ we must all go up and promenade the deck, 
I suppose.” 

“ What is it?” inquired Savelli, critically balancing 
a morsel of chicken pate upon the end of his fork. 

“ This mushroom is most excellent,” interrupted 
King, “ Vespasian’s cooks could not have surpassed it, 
I am sure.’ 

‘ Are you authority on that subject, Mr. King?” 
laughed Judith lightly. “ I do not think Vespasian’s 
gourmand appetite ever delighted itself on mushrooms 
or frog’s legs ; this finesse of modern cookery must 
have originated in the French school of cooks, I should 
think.’ 

“ The fine art of eating to-day,” commented Savelli, 
who loved the table, “ is to run to the most ridicu- 
lously small things, by which we can multiply dishes 
and expense.” 

“ I should say, Savelli,” commented John King 
dryly, who was rather delicate in his choice of viands, 
“ that that pate you have just disposed of was no 
very small thing.' The company smiled at this re- 
mark 

“ Well, King, you see,” continued Savelli com- 
placently, “ I have made a fresh discovery regard- 
ing the human stomach, which justifies my at- 
tempt to treat mine so generously.” Everyone 
looked at the young actor, whose eyes were flashing 
with amusement, “ I was trained to believe that the 
accommodating capacity of the human stomach was 
about one pint and a half, but a scientific chap in- 
formed me the other day it could be easily expanded 
to three quarts. I am at present eating on a sliding 
scale in the hands of the experimenter.” 

“ Where are the cooks who can accommodate him a 
year hence ?” inquired Judith, laughing heartily; “ Or 


1 62 John king, Manager. 

the manager who can foot his bills ?” supplemented 
King. 

“ Why, Mr. Savelli, you’ll bring about a change in 
modern society.” 

“ In modern menu, you mean, miss,” corrected Sa- 
velH, gracefully holding up his glass of wine to notice 
the effect of light upon it. 

History repeats itself. I am studying effects. 
The good voyage is over ; here is to your health and 
happiness on the other side of the Atlantic, Miss 
Kent.” 

John King responding rather eagerly, touched 
glasses with Savelli as the two gentlemen rose, joined 
by the little company about them who took up the 
refrain : 

“ Here is to the health of the fairest girl that ever 
crossed the Atlantic !” 

With prettily worded and graceful response, Judith 
touched her lips to the wine, returning the glass to the 
table. 

“ Why don’t you drink it ?” inquired John King, in 
his low-voiced, critical way. 

“ I hardly know,” she replied, as the company 
walked away from the table, “ unless it is because I 
have seen the beverage of the gods so often contribute 
to the humility of my sex. I am superstitious of its 
influence over myself, perhaps.” 

“ Is it possible ?” King stared at her in well bred 
surprise. 

“ Oh, no !” she responded, rather thoughtfully, 
looking beyond him as she spoke. “ It is not the be- 
ginning of an appetite I fear ; but the social letting 
down of the custom, I abhor I think tea is much 
nicer Mr. King, don’t you ?” She turned with a flash 
of light in her happy eyes that stirred and electrified 
King as they rested upon his. 

“ Well, Judith, I think it depends upon who gives 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


163 

US the tea he answered her slowly, with that white 
hunger of passion, she could not fail to observe, com- 
ing into his face and giving tremulous modulation to 
his voice. ‘‘ Will you give me another cup sometime, 
Judith quite alone by ourselves ?" He enforced the 
strong pleading of his face by taking one of her hands 
as he stood waiting her deliberation. 

Alessandro Savelli passed at that moment, a little 
circumstance which either changed the current of her 
thoughts or brought them to a point of decision. 

“ No, I will not !” she replied, decidedly. Alessan- 
dro’s eyes flashed over the faces of the imploring man 
and the hesitating girl with a cold expression of dis- 
approval as he passed them. 

“ Some day, some day you will change your opinion 
of me, my dear,” he insisted firmly. 

“ I hope not,” she replied, with provoking indiffer- 
ence, as she withdrew her hand. 

“ Why ?’• 

“ Because I would always like to think as well of you 
as I do to-day.” She turned her sweet, merry face 
back to him over her shoulder as she ran away, leav- 
ing him with his feet set squarely together, his head 
bent forward, his eyes following her reproachfully, 
and the end of his mustache drawn in between his 
strong teeth. 

Early the next morning, Judith appeared on deck. 
The sea was in a transport with heaven so far as to 
reflect all the glory above, its crinkly lines of calm 
like the uneven surface of a burnished mirror. The 
Irish coast lay as a dim line of gray drawn across the 
horizon, there was a crisp brightness and soft color in 
the atmosphere, as if suddenly struck into moving 
light by the scintillating radiance of the rising sun, 
whose round head of yellow sent its long streamers 
of fire half way up the zenith of cool, slaty blue, over 


164 JOHN king, manager. 

which rose the feathery whiteness of summer clouds 
blushing with the rosy consciousness of a new day. 

“ I think it will rain to-morrow, Miss Kent,” said a 
voice so near to Judith that she started, turning 
abruptly upon the speaker 

“ Do you, Mr. King ? Then we shall be more than 
befogged in London, we shall be dribbled.” 

“ Well, a pleasant day must soon follow,” responded 
King, “ when we shall appreciate the value of con- 
trasts. Will you take my arm, Miss Kent ?” 

“ Do you settle all the difficulties of your life that 
way, Mr. King ?” she inquired, laying, her hand 
lightly on his arm. 

“ There is one difficulty of my life I cannot contem- 
plate quite so philosophically.” 

And that ?” 

“ Is why you bestow so many favors upon Savelli 
whose affections are engaged, and so little upon your 
humble servant. King, who adores you.” 

Mr. King ! I am too prudish, perhaps, to allow 
you to talk to me in this flippant manner,” she re- 
sponded stiffly, her heart sinking sorely in her bosom 
at the recollection of Florence Winter, whom this re- 
mark recalled to memory. Strange, but she always 
now experienced this same sore, sick sensation every 
time the vain little beauty connected herself in her 
thoughts with the young actor. She would like very 
much to have had the matter settled in her mind re- 
garding what John King knew of their relation, but 
shrank from making her interest in Savelli so mani- 
fest to him. With an air of severity and coldness 
wholly at variance with the tender excitement in her 
bosom, she maintained a rebuking silence, keeping 
her eyes, in the meantime, steadily turned away from 
the sharp, inquiring glance of the manager. Look- 
ing at her steadily, John King did not fail to detect 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


165 

the shadow upon her face, and the sensitive droop at 
the corner of her expressive lips. 

“God knows, I am not flippant about it, Judith ! 
I am very much in earnest." She did not reply only 
by turning her face further away from him so that the 
delicate oval of her cheek was all that was visible, 
except the strained curve of the round throat, as 
white and polished as a piece of satin, supporting not 
the dainty head alone, but revealing the finished rim 
of the pink ear involuntarily attentive. 

“ Miss Kent, I would not like to see you made mis- 
erable, even though I were not happy. I must con- 
fess, if you will pardon^me and understand me, Judith, 
that inadvertently I witnessed the dressing-room 
scene — " 

She turned upon him almost fiercely, her face in a 
blaze of anger. 

“ What do you mean ? What are you hinting at ? 
I do not understand." As he felt her about to with- 
draw her hand from his arm, he quickly covered it, 
holding it decidedly in his own. 

“ You are angry with me," he continued in a 
aggrieved tone. 

“ I would like to know what you mean ? and why 
you talk to me occasionally as though I were a child ?" 
She was looking him bravely in the face which was 
what he desired, but he could feel her hand trem- 
bling upon his arm. 

“ Why, I saw you in your dressing-room with 
Savelli one evening, the week previous to^our reaching 
Chicago. I suppose you will call it a rehearsal ; 
women are so prone to evade the truth in these mat- 
ters ; but I swear Savelli saw something better than 
the actress in your face when you kissed him that 
night." 

A second burning flush of angry color followed this 
announcement. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


1 66 

“ What right have you,” she began by pulling her 
hand away from him, and at that moment saw Savelli 
approaching them. In her proud irritation she felt 
that he spoke the truth, when she continued with 
spirit, — 

“ I will only vindicate my position so far with you, 
as to say I have no sort of interest in Mr. Savelli, as 
a man ; I considered him only as an actor.” She 
abruptly left them, bowing coldly to Savelli, as she 
hurried below to relieve her feelings by a little girlish 
cry. 

“ What is the trouble with Miss Kent ?” inquired 
Savelli. “ She seemed a trifle stiff and cool as she 
passed me just now.” 

“ Oh nothing more than what sometimes happens 
to a young lady who finds herself interested,” replied 
John King in a teasing way ; adding “ She was just 
now explaining to me the scene I happened to witness 
in her dressing-room.’ 

“ Explaining what ?” 

John King laughed amusedly, answering his impa- 
tience with great deliberation, “ Why the truth, I sup- 
pose, that it was a bit of pretty rehearsal. You know 
I thought it might have been a genuine love affair, 
vSavelli ; but she has just repudiated the charge with 
indignation. It is quite evident if a lady’s word can 
be trusted, Savelli, she does not care for you in the 
least.” 

“ If you have the lady’s confidence, I think it should 
be sacred ; we will not discuss it, if you please,” was 
the young Italian’s gallant reply. 

“ You are right, Savelli ; having the honor of Miss 
Kent’s confidence, I have no more intention of mak- 
ing it a matter of general comment that you would 
do under similar circumstances ; but in this particu- 
lar case, Savelli, I thought she might be too deeply 
Interested in a handsome fellow of my acquaintance ; 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


167 


SO deeply interested in fact, as to bring herself into 
unpleasant conjunction with Miss Winter. I would 
not like to see her made unhappy.” A look of dark 
displeasure crossed the face of the handsome fellow 
at King’s side as he muttered something savage under 
his breath, after which both men paced the deck for 
some time in moody silence together. At length 
they were joined by other promenaders, who accosted 
them pleasantly as they passed the star and his man- 
ager. Finally Miss Kent re-appeared under the pro- 
tection of her friend Madame De ^Sequeria. The 
two ladies walked and talked together with such deep 
self- absorption as to seem utterly oblivious of the 
gentlemen whose gallantries were generally supposed 
to be so acceptable to them. 

Savelli was at a loss to understand the coolness, 
which had suddenly arisen between them, and of 
course attributed it to the wrong cause. He began 
also to emerge a little from the fog of artistic bewil- 
derment, so far as to take a plain account of things. 
Insensibly he had been led on by the intrigues of 
Miss Winter, who was clever only as a schemer, so far 
as to become considerably compromised with her. He 
began now to perceive that there was a certain other 
young lady in the world who appeared to be strongly 
attractive and very desirable as a companion. He 
had not hitherto been accustomed to think of the 
companionship of women. He was so puzzled and 
distressed by the complication of his ideas of honor, as 
brought into connection with his newly stirred 
emotions, that he felt unusually savage with himself, 
with the man at his side, with Florence Winter ; in 
fact with everybody who had anything to do with the 
affair. Then he reflected still further that Miss Kent 
was evidently interested in King, and he thought it 
unfortunate for her ; judging King as he did, from a 
standpoint, he concluded he was not worthy of 


i68 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


SO noble a gift. This girl needed a brother’s care ; 
could he give her that protection without — he turned 
impatiently upon King, cutting the Gordian knot of 
his perplexities by a single stroke of decision, namely, 
to fly the temptation which meant a dangerous double 
obligation. 

“ King !” King started ; so sharply had he broken 
the silence at dast by pronouncing his name, in his 
deep, tremendous voice. “ I have changed my mind 
about remaining in London. I think I will go on 
immediately to Italy.” 

King’s face grew radiant. “ Indeed, Alessandro,” 
he rejoined heartily, “ I see the Lover’s impatient 
haste to meet a certain, fair, despotic lady. After 
the tempest comes the calm, after the voyage comes 
the charm, and we will all shortly drink your health, 
Sandro my boy, in London, to your good speed to fair 
Florence, and the charming villa Savelli.” 

Dumfounded and checkmated, wrathful but impo- 
tent, Savelli stood still, frowning and staring at the 
amused and diplomatic face of the manager. King 
smoked his cigar, smiled at the shore, at the sky, at 
Judith, anywhere, except to look upon the dark face, or 
to meet the perplexed gaze of the angry young actor. 

“ Damn it. King !” he burst forth at length in un- 
controllable rage, “ I feel as though I was in the 
presence of lago. You are inexplicable to me.” 
With which he strolled away and disappeared from 
the deck. 

“ There goes the second one off my hands,” laughed 
King softly to himself. “ A pair of fire-crackers. If 
I manage them well, it will be a merry fourth of July. 
So far, at least, I have braved all of their humors and 
have not yet been killed by their tremendous explo- 
sion ; so much light and fire,” he continued his amused 
musing, “ always displays the nature of combustibles- 
everything being blown out in a fury.” ^ 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


169 


This remark brought him about, facing Judith and 
Madame De Sequeria. He gallantly threw away 
his cigar and raising his hat he stood holding 
it in his hand, with the polished air of politeness 
so natural to him, as he waited for them to pass 
him, but venturing the remark as they did so, that 
“ Perhaps they knew that Mr. Savelli was about to 
leave immediately for Italy ; he hoped our fair ladies 
would join with him in congratulation and good wishes 
to speed his early departure.” 

Madame De Sequeria stopped. The faint line of 
color left Judith’s lips. 

“ Going to Italy ! Why this sudden change ?” in- 
quired madame indignantly, adding, hurriedly, 
‘‘ surely he is the most inconsistent fellow I ever 
knew.” 

“ I believe Miss Winter is in Florence, is she not ?” 
inquired King, looking at Judith attentively, who, 
with an air of offended silence, still stood with her 
glance steadily fixed upon the floor. 

“ Oh, I know you. King !” reproached madame, 
shrugging her shoulders, “ and I guess you are piqued 
at something which you cannot help, so that you choose 
to maneuvre and upset things generally. Do you know, 
King, you are a sensitive fellow, and I have always 
found that sensitive persons are inclined to be mali- 
cious. Being wounded, their first impulse is to retali- 
ate. But, King,” she expostulated in merry sarcasm, 
“it is so ungenerous to strike a woman !” 

King seemed to sense the true intention of madame’s 
ambiguous remark, as he turned away from them a 
little abruptly, while Judith was not too obtuse to re- 
spond to the sharp cut of madame’s tongue by another 
blaze of color surging over her fair fac^. 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


170 


CHAPTER XV. 

The landing at Liverpool was characterized by the 
■usual hurry and confusion incident to all disembark- 
ing and looking up of baggage. The place impressed 
Judith unpleasantly as smelling of fish and beer. 
The buildings looked squalid and smoky, -and the 
women also, as if they were a city of tipplers. Ac- 
companying this dreary aspect was the painful pros- 
pect of an immediate parting with Savelli for an in- 
definite period. With all the other uncomfortable 
sensations consequent upon travel and change were 
those feelings that she had been slighted in favor of 
an uiiworthy and inferior woman. This bred in her 
bearing an air of proud resentment toward the really 
unoffending actor. During their walk down the 
gang plank together, she kept her eyelids persistently 
lowered, and her face coldly turned aside in an effort 
to hide the rebellious tears which would have be- 
trayed how sad and heavy was her heart. To all of 
madame's amiable chatter she briefly replied that 
she was “ disappointed,” — disappointed, poor child ! — 
so disappointed that she saw Liverpool through the 
mists of tears, and yearned only for the privacy of 
some room where her grief might be properly ex- 
pressed in the freedom of a good cry. Finally she 
heard Savelli saying to her, “ We are quite ready, 
Miss Kent ; I shall accompany King to London, when 
I think perhaps, I had better hurry on to Italy.” He 
spoke hesitatingly, looking inquiringly into the pale, 
sad face of the girl, with a touch of pathetic entreaty 
in his soft, black eyes, which she could not see, of 
course, as she dared not trust her glance to meet his, 
lest the truth should become apparent that his going 
wa§ a 9ruel wound, ' 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


171 

“ I suppose Mr. King told you I had concluded it 
might be better that I should go on immediately'?” he 
continued to interrogate. He hoped she would sig- 
nify her regret by asking him to linger a little longer ; 
and that she would offer the charming inducement of 
her companionship during his stay. Instead, she 
apathetically took her bag from his hand, remarking 
as she seated herself at Madame’s side, “ Yes, I be- 
lieve he told me.” She did not even say, “ I am 
pleased that you go so far as London.” He turned 
reluctantly away to join King in another part of the 
carriage. When they finally arrived in London, the 
gentlemen made themselves jointly useful in se- 
curing the ladies' luggage and a carriage, whereupon 
Madame, who was “ a whole host” in herself, declared 
they were extremely obliged to them for their ser- 
vices, but required nothing further of them. 

“ I am very sorry, Mr. Savelli, you have changed 
your mind about remaining in London, as it will 
break up so many pleasant arrangements. Judith 
and I must now go unattended, as we cannot sacrifice 
one gentleman between us ; it would be so dreadfully 
uncomfortable, not knowing which one he was bound 
by the laws of chivalry to attend.” 

King stared ; this woman was a little more than a 
match for him. Judith smiled with covert amuse- 
ment, while Savelli looked whole interrogation points. 

“Oh, no!” explained madame, sweetly, “I could 
not allow Judith to go running around London with 
you alone, Mr. King ; there are proprieties which we 
are bound to consider.” 

“That will fix him, I guess,” laughed madame, 
hilariously, when they w’ere once closed inside the 
cab and being driven on to their destination. “Oh, 
he will go of course !” remarked Judith, disconso- 
lately. 

Of course/' consented madame, philosophically, 


1/2 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


“but I know Westminster and the Kensington as 
well as either John King or Savelli ; we can get on 
tolerably well without their attendance, my dear. I 
assure you, that the attendance of a whole regiment 
of men will not secure you a seat in all England. 
They are a bearish lot of people, who will show you 
things as if your eyes were a pair of magnetized 
pockets, that could attach and hold all London in 
your gaze. It is so different in Paris ; people are so 
polite to you there ; they seem to know by instinct 
that you have bunions and faint spells, so they find 
delightful chairs and cushions for you to sit upon ; 
but if you should go sight seeing a thousand years 
in London, they would never know you sufficiently 
well to offer you a seat. I think if Savelli had re- 
mained,” she rattled on volubly, “ I should not have 
tortured myself to have shown you everything as I 
must now do, I suppose. He has no bunions, dear 
boy, and could help you to stand it, looking at things, 
and trying to find out how many wives Henry the 
Eighth had and beheaded.” 

“But why not John King?” inquired Judith, 
emerging somewhat from her gloom. Madame put 
up her forefingers, shaking her head in smiling wonder 
at the young woman. 

“ Don’t you know, Judith, that the world says he is 
a naughty man ?” but Judith ignored the significance 
of madame’s remark, either through her loyal love of 
defending her weak and absent friend, or to pique 
madame into further exposures ; she replied with an 
air of perversity : 

“ Now do you know, Fve found him rather nice, at 
limes, Olivia. Sometimes I am half in love with him ; 
he teases me a great deal of course, but then there 
are other times when he has a charm and grace 
which is very captivating to me.” 

“ Fie !” responded madame, contemptuousljr, “ he is 


JOHN KING, manager. 


^73 


well enough for me to look after in an elderly fash- 
ion, but he is not a proper person for you to be 
intimately associated with, Judith, and you know it. 
You confessed as much to me once upon a time in a 
certain letter.’* 

“ But that was long ago. Since then I have dis- 
covered much in him that would naturally interest a 
woman who might like to shape a man’s life by mak- 
ing herself a little governor on the engine which 
drives it to so much that is great and dangerous, 
when not properly regulated and controlled.” Ma- 
dame looked at her scornfully. 

“Do you think, you small, soft woman, that you 
could regulate and control a strong man like John 
King ? You know better ; you are simply flirting 
with a reckless fancy.” 

“ Do you dislike him so much, yet treat him so 
well, Olivia ?” 

“ On the contrary, I like him very much ; despite his 
moral lapses, he is rather a lovable man ; but he is 
not to be trusted.” 

“ Why, Olivia ? I have my reason for thinking so, 
but I want yours ?” 

“Because he cannot trust himself, Judith.” 

Madame chirped merrily as they crossed Piccadilly 
— she was very fond of London ; but to Judith it 
was disappointing. Everything about her had taken 
the hue of her thoughts, which were gloomy because 
of the chilling farewell from Alessandro at the 
station. 

They found their rooms delightfully located, but 
Judith, flinging off her traveling cloak, had barely 
taken a hasty survey of the apartments, when, to 
madame’s surprise, she threw herself into a chair, sob- 
bing as though her heart would break. 

Madame stood in the middle of the room, her eyes 
opened wide in astonishment. 


iU 


JOHl^ KING, MANAGED. 


“ Judith ! Judith, dear ! are you ill ?” 

For a moment there was no reply, then with a 
fresh burst~of sobs, Judith answered: 

“ I am so — so — homesick/’ 

“ Homesick ! oh, my dear, that is foolish ; now I as- 
sure you that in all my experience I have found shop- 
ping a most effective and complete cure for home- 
sickness ; suppose you dress and come out with me 
while I invest in a hat. I noticed,” Olivia continues, 
“ as we came along in the cab, that the style of hats 
seem quite different from the one or two with which 
I am provided, and I must see what I can find this 
afternoon.” 

This announcement seemed to Judith, accustomed 
as she was to madame’s never failing energy, a trifle 
unnatural ; it would be more becoming if Olivia 
should pretend to be tired ; why she had not been in 
London more than thirty minutes ; in fact, she should 
“ assume a virtue, though she had it not.” Madame’s 
power of rejuvenation was for once a source of annoy- 
ance to her friend. 

Madame, ignorant of what is passing in Judith’s 
mind, continues her quiet little monologue : 

“ I think Louise of Regent Street will have some- 
thing to my liking.” 

“ I can’t go out ! I can’t,” sobbed Judith, “I am 
wretched !” 

“ A very bad attack, my dear !” madame says 
quietly, as she busies herself with changing her 
gown for a becoming street costume. This accom- 
plished she made one last plea to Judith, who is deaf 
to all entreaties. 

Madame finally leaves, telling Judith with a re- 
markable amount of cheerfulness, that she might 
dine and spend the evening with friends, as the door 
closes upon madame’s departing figure. Judith’s sobs 
burst forth afresh, as she thinks bitterly to herself : 


John kino, manager. 175 

Laugh, and Olivia laughs with you ; “ weep and you 
weep alone,’' 

There she lay, poor little foolish child, and cried, 
and cried, until overcome with exhaustion she fell 
asleep. She awoke much refreshed and rang for 
lunch ; after which she looked at herself in the mirror 
and broke into a merry laugh. 

“ Perhaps after all she had simply been hungry 
then she wished she had gone with Olivia ; the 
thought of spending the evening alone was not a very 
pleasant prospect, but quite her own fault ; certainly 
no one else was to blame. She was nearly at her 
wit’s end as to how the time should be passed when 
the door opened and Madame De Sequeria hastily 
entered the room. She looked at Judith’s eyes, 
brighter for having been washed by tears, and at the 
dimpling mouth ; then madame smiled a laugh in 
which Judith joined a soft contralto. 

“ Judith dear, would you absolutely refuse to go to 
dinner with Sandro and John King ? Because if not, 
they will call for us at six-thirty.” 

“ They have not left for the continent then ?” 
Judith exclaimed, her face radiant with joy. 

“ I met them,” madame reiterates with a touch of 
derision, “ consequently they have not left for the 
continent.” 

“ How foolishly happy you look,” remarked Olivia 
an hour later, as Judith stood before her in her white 
dinner gown ; “ Which one of these men really is 
it ?” 

“Neither, Olivia, I assure you,” smiled Judith, 
drawing on her long gloves. “ It is the dinner I am 
thinking of, Savelli orders a dinner with such good 
taste.” 

“ Taste !” and madame shrugs her shoulders, 
“Taste !” she reiterates contemptuously, “ I should say 
so by the way the viands disappear. You look very 


176 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


well, J udith, but frightfully expectant ; I should advise 
you to modify that expression a little before the 
gentlemen ; like my friend D’Artsman^ in Savelli’s 
after dinner speech, ‘ You have mueh to learn.’ ” 

Simultaneously with this remark, John King and 
Savelli are announced. 

It was so cleverly arranged by the diplomatic 
Madame De Sequeria that Judith found herself at 
Savelli’s side when they went to dinner, which was a 
very pleasant affair ; and from thence they set out for 
the theatre. If John King was disappointed, it was 
not like him to furnish any evidence of that fact to the 
curious observation of his companions. He was nat- 
urally disposed to keep all his externals cool and phi- 
losophic, reserving his inner tempest for a private 
occasion, one of his own favorite aphorisms being, 

A vanquished hero, if wise, will conceal his defeat.” 
After they had entered the carriage, Savelli suggested 
that they should go to Daly’s. 

“ I hear there is an American playing there with 
tremendous success.” 

“ If it will please the ladies, I certainly do not ob- 
ject,” responded John King. “Put who is the star, 
Savelli ?” 

“ Really, King, I have a bad memory for everything 
excepting my lines ; faces and names are alyrays un- 
certain and puzzling to me ; the most phenomenal 
statement I ever heard made about any one was, that 
James Blaine could remember every person to whom 
he had been introduced, so that on meeting them at 
any time or place he was able to give them a proper 
salutation.” 

“ I sometimes forget names, but never a face,” re- 
sponded King. 

“ It is my opinion,” laughed Madame De Sequeria, 
“you could easily forget both if it were convenient 
King.” . 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

A slight touch of annoyance stained the firm mor- 
bidizza of King’s cheek. 

“ Well, Mr. King, you need not blush, I am sure, for 
such a convenient memory,” defended Judith. “I 
consider it a virtue in you I shall strive to emulate.” 

“ Is it possible life has furnished any experience you 
would like to forget. Miss Kent ?” 

“Are you not straining the question a little, King, 
to meet your own complaint ?” inquired Savelli. 

“ I am unhappy in conversation this evening ; per- 
haps I had better keep silent, and so recover my 
wandering wits.” 

“ If you dare to do anything so stupid, you old 
darling,” cried madame, tapping King playfully with 
her fan, “ I will get out of the carriage and never, 
never ride with you again. The idea of riding with a 
dumb man, preposterous !” 

“ You presume, my dear Olivia, to talk to Mr. King 
as if he were your grandfather,” complained Judith. 

“ Why not ?” inquired madame with asperity. “ I 
am sure my grandfather would consider it a compli- 
ment if he were alive.” 

“ And I must consider it a compliment that he 
is dead,” laughed King, good humoredly. “ Come, 
come, my dear Olivia ! you have made a sufficient 
number of disagreeable speeches this evening to 
condemn you as a cynic ; whereas I am only thirty- 
two in years, but fihy in experience ; I grow in- 
wardly old and gray, while madame keeps herself 
young and charming as a woman should. I beg leave 
to declare in the presence of these witnesses that your 
bonnet is decidedly original and very becoming.” 

“ Thank you. King !” responded madame, heartily, 
who had just sufficient vanity to swallow a compli- 
ment with good grace. 

It was most true that madame had a secret appetite 
for notice, which is sure to attack the female mind 


17S 


John king, manager. 


when first it becomes aware of the cynical touch 
of time upon some of the coveted charms of physical 
beauty. Despite the roundness of her figure and the 
freshness of her florid complexion, madame’s color 
was too deep for the rose tint of girlhood, her figure a 
trifle too heavy, her pretty little feet disfigured by 
bunions, and the first detestable lines of age were as- 
siduously implanting themselves at the corners of her 
merry blue eyes. There was, neverthless, a spirit and 
gayety about her which greatly offset the ravages of 
time, leading not only madame herself, but all the 
young life with which she fraternized, to forget that 
she was nearing the mellow age of fifty. 

While engaged in this sort of banter, the cab, mak- 
ing good speed, had brought them to the door of the 
handsome theatre. Still retaining his position by 
Judith’s side, Savelli got out, assisting his companion, 
who looked curiously at the big posters standing in 
the entrance. 

EILEEN KENDALL. 

UNPARALLELED PERFORMANCE OF THE 
CELEBRATED CAMILLE. 

“ That name sounds familiar,” commented Judith, 
“ where have I heard of her ?” 

She turned her puzzled face toward Savelli’s. 

“ Eileen Kendall,” pursued Savelli, as he glanced 
at a stand of photographs in the entrance. “ Oh, I 
do remember ; she was with me the first season of 
John King’s management in New York. By Jove! 
this is unexpected. I wonder what King will say ?” 

Simultaneously, Savelli and Judith turned their 
heads toward King and madame, who were standing 
just behind them. Madame, with a little, teasing 
smile of humor displayed upon her face, which she 


John iciNo, Manageii. 


m 

was endeavoring to restrain in a manner that dis- 
figured her pretty mouth, while King, greatly discon- 
certed, stands with his mustache between his teeth, 
his lips hardened into a pale line, his eyes from be- 
neath their frowning brows fixed in a silent stare of 
amazement upon the gaudy poster. 

“ This girl has won. King ! In the hard battle 
against fate, and the dominance of men !” said madame, 
looking steadily at him. ‘‘ I must rejoice in her hard 
earned victory.” 

Something flashed out of the expressive eyes of the 
man at her side as he allowed their glance to rest for 
a moment upon madame’s, which caused her to lay 
her hand upon his arm in a silent expression of sym- 
pathy. Why she should pity him he could not ex- 
actly explain, unless she saw in his pale, pained face 
an expression of grief and remorse that seemed to 
atone somewhat for his cruelty and guilt. ' After all, 
it wasn’t so bad an affair as many others she had 
known, thought madame, as they entered their box at 
the theatre together, since neither has ruined the 
other, man and woman being in the ^heyday of suc- 
cess what was the need of recrimination and tears. 
Diplomacy being the manly art of men, John King 
pulled himself together with what bravery he could 
summon, so that nothing in his manner should suggest 
to Judith and Madame De Sequeria the absorbing oc- 
cupation of his mind. His bearing toward them 
became at once graceful and gay, as he facetiously 
forced conversation that seemed to him like a me- 
chanical outpouring of meaningless words. 

When Eileen Kendall came upon the stage, for a 
few moments only his face betrayed him, as full of 
intense curiosity he leaned across the box rail, fixing 
a strong, magnetic look upon the actress’ face, which 
had the effect of drawing her gaze to his own. As 
their eyes met, the irrepressible memories of the past 


1^0 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

seemed to overcome them both. The arm of Kirigf 
resting^ upon the curtain rail of the box shook so vis- 
ibly, that he withdrew it, suddenly pressing his hand 
hard down upon his knee ; while Eileen, thus brought 
unexpectedly face to face with the man whom she 
had loved and could never cease to desire, blanched 
under her make-up, and reeled slightly backward, like 
a person who has received a sudden blow and is about 
to fall. It would have been impossible for the least 
vain of men not to have correctly construed the flash 
of delight and wonder that rapidly succeeded the 
pallor and trembling of surprise, so visible to all, but 
correctly conjectured only by two or three persons in 
the audience. 

“ My God !” said Madame De Sequeria under her 
breath, “ that poor fool woman loves him yet.” 

“ I am not forgotten,” was King's flattering thought. 

Eileen Kendall played that evening the real tragedy 
of her own bitter life ; she did not act Camille, she 
was Camille ; only the Armand she played to was 
in the box, fascinated and bewildered by her perform- 
ance. 

The incident passed without any comment from 
King and his friends upon the meeting 'of the new 
star and her old manager. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

It was while madame was answering a huge pile of 
correspondence one morning that Judith, perfectly 
equipped in a most becoming riding-habit, entered 
the room. With sparkling eyes, the nervous colour 
coming and going in her face, she stood before 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


I8l 

madame for her critical inspection ; she did not speak 
at first, for it had been arranged between her and 
Savelli that this should be a surprise to madame. 

Laying down her pen, Olivia expressed by the mo- 
tion of her hand a desire that she should make the 
proper evolutions necessary for the inspection of each 
detail. This Judith did, feeling like a dummy in one 
of the shops which twirl at a very slight touch ; she 
thought she could hear the whirr and rattle of the rod 
in its socket, but concluded it was the jingle of the 
silver spurs upon the smart boots which she wore. 

The inspection ended, madame’s verdict was as 
follows : 

“ Beautiful ! beautiful, my dear ! You are a pic- 
ture !” Then with a little grief-stricken expression, 
she asked: But why so secret about it, Judith?” 
Without waiting for a reply, she continued: “To 
think you could get to and from the tailor’s Without 
my once suspecting ! Quite a little joke on' me ; but 
the habit will be a great acquisition to your stage ward- 
robe'' 

Olivia did not approve of Judith “mounting a 
strange animal,” even for the interesting experiment 
of riding in the Row; hence, the building of the 
habit had been kept a secret from madame. Judith 
planning that while in the first transports of admir- 
ation, the disagreeable fact was to be announced to 
her dear Olivia, that she, Judith, was to ride in the 
Row that very morning with Savelli. 

The transports had been all Judith anticipated, but 
her courage had ebbed upon hearing that last re- 
mark of madame’s : “ It will be a great acquisition to 
your stage wardrobe.” 

Olivia, who never suspected her antipathy against 
equestrian exercise was to be so utterly disregarded, 
turned once more to her letters, while Judith crossed 
and recrossed the room to the accompaniment of Jhe 


i 82 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


quick movement of madame’s pen, meditating as to 
how the storm, which she instinctively felt must 
burst upon her when the truth was known, could be 
averted. She finally sat down upon the edge of the 
chair in a rather disconsolate attitude, hoping that 
Savelli might be announced to mollify 'by his pres- 
ence the anticipated burst of wrath. 

Madame turned suddenly and looked critically at 
Judith. “Well, my dear, why don't you go and take 
it off ?“ 

“ Well " and Judith hesitated ; “You see, dear, 

Savelli and I are going out.” 

“ But not in that rig !” madame emphasized the 
word “rig,” in a way that Judith thinks is positively 
cruel. 

“ Oh, yes,” she replied, “ we are to ride in the Row 
this morning, I promised Mr. Savelli,” she continues, 
as she makes an unsuccessful effort to carry convic- 
tion with her words, “it is perfectly safe.” 

“Safe !” Madame, but for her excellent breeding, 
could have shrieked the word “ safe !” She reiter- 
ates : “ There is not a saddle-horse in London that is 
safe ! A cab horse ! yes, one might mount a cab 
horse, the most knowing beast I ever saw — but if I 
ever witnessed base ingratitude, Judith, it is in this 
instance; no ! don’t speak to me, please !” as Judith 
is about to attempt reasoning the matter out. 

“ To think that my trip is to be spoiled, utterly 
spoiled by your vanity ; it is just your romantic fancy, 
my dear, to be a person who rides in the Row, in one 
of those perfectly fitting habits one reads about in 
English novels.” 

Judith cannot surpress a smile, while madame con- 
tinues, this time with tears in her eyes : 

“ I know you imagine you are Dodo ; that is it, my 
dear, you imagine you are a Dodo, and Savelli one of 
those poor misguided men, yes, that is it,” with a 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


183 


decided nod of her head, “ you wish to imagine your- 
self Dodo ; but let me tell you that the Dodo is ex- 
tinct, Mr. Kipling says so ; ‘As extinct as the Dodo,’ 
is his exact phrase.” 

Madame sniffs once or twice and wipes away the 
tears, while Judith torn by a desire to please madame, 
but with a still stronger desire to go with Savelli, 
finally expostulates : 

“ I am not impersonating any character, I simply 
wish to ride.” 

“ Of course you wish to ride, of course, and go my 
dear, go by all means,” madame goes on heedlessly, 
“ don’t consider my feelings for an instant, but let me 
tell you, Judith, you may be as obsolete as the Dodo 
if you wish.” Judith thought she detected a mild 
aside which sounded like, “ and as obstinate,” “ but 
don’t ask me,” madame proceeds, “ to collect your 
bones, or your brains, or whatever may be scattered 
about, to send back to America.” With this final 
declaration of war madame vanished into the farther 
room, whence Judith was about to follow her, but was 
detained by Savelli, who upon being announced came 
into the room smiling ; handsome and very boyish too, 
Judith thought he looked in his English riding togs. 
She hurriedly related her recent little altercation with 
madame at which Savelli laughed. 

“What nonsense! can I not pacify her in some 
way ?” But to all prayers of both to come forth and 
be comforted, madame turned a deaf ear. 

“ Mr. King is to come later to fetch her to the Row,” 
Savelli remarks, at which Judith goes to the door and 
imparts the information, adding : 

“ You know, Olivia dear, it will be so nice and com- 
fortable to sit there on one of those little green 
chairs.” 

“ Comfortable !” cries Olivia, “ they look most un- 
comfortable 1 they are much too small for comfort.” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


184 

So Savelli and Judith are obliged to depart without 
having extracted from iiiadame the desired promise 
to meet them later in company with John King. 

“ Perhaps King will succeed better than we have 
done ; do smile, Miss Kent, it is not such a serious 
matter if madame doesn’t come, is it V* Savelli in- 
quired as they went down the stairs together. 

Oh, no ! not so very serious,” Judith replied, but 
I dislike to offend Olivia, even ” she hesitated. 

“ Even to please me,” Savelli finished, with an earn- 
est expression in his eyes. Judith smiled but made 
no reply ; after all, she thinks, “ Pretty phrases cost a 
man nothing just as they mean nothing.” 

Passing through the vestibule, the door of which is 
held open by an obsequious servant, Judith, upon be- 
holding the handsome mount that Savelli has pro- 
vided for her, temporarily forgets her quarrel with 
Olivia. 

“ Now, Miss Kent !” smiled Savelli, holding his 
hand, and with a light touch of her foot upon it, 
Judith is in the saddle. 

John King had not taken kindly to the arrangement 
which Savelli had made for him to act as madame’s 
escort, while he and Judith were enjoying their 
canter together ; nevertheless he had not betrayed 
the least resentment, but promised quite cheerfully to 
call for madame, which he did, only to find her in 
such a state of hopeless anxiety that even to the 
prosaic mind of John King it was irresistibly funny, 
and it was only by the most skillful means that he was 
kept from betraying his humorous view of the situa- 
tion. They went out talking amicably together, but to 
all persuasions to visit that portion of the park devoted 
to equestrians, Madame returns a decided “No !” How- 
ever, she does not refuse to accept an invitation to drive 
with Mr. King, anywhere but to the Row. Madame’s 
curiosity is too active however to lay supine. Upon 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


185 


Judith and Savelli taking their last turn in the direc- 
tion of the arch, they came upon — Was it possible ? — 
King and-madame, seated upon those recently con- 
demned green chairs. Madame looked very com- 
fortable, until finding herself observed her face re- 
sumed its former grief-stricken expression. 

King arose, and, as he approached them asked 
pleasantly, “ If they had enjoyed their ride ?” 

Immensely !” Savelli responded, as he and Judith 
drew up within speaking distance. 

“ Good morning, madame !” says Savelli, relapsing 
into French as he frequently does with madame. 
“ Does not mademoiselle look charming this morning ? 
She sits her horse perfectly ; and you see no bones are 
yet broken.” At which madame replies, “She may 
look well enough,’ but I doubt if she will be content to 
ride once ; no, it must be until the predicted catas- 
trophe has happened.” 

Savelli laughed, his deep, rolling laugh at madame’s 
perverse desire to be upon the negative side of every- 
thing. At this point, Judith’s horse growing a little 
restive, madame exclaims, “ That she should think 
Judith might refrain at least from allowing the brute 
to trample her dearest friends to death !” with which 
she hurriedly rises from her chair and in company 
with King enters a waiting cab, when they turn in 
the direction of St. James, to be followed leisurely by 
Savelli and Judith. 

How it all happened no one, not even madame, at- 
tempted to explain, but as they were crossing the 
busy thoroughfare in front of the arch, the mild 
mannered horse attached to the cab took fright. He 
threw Cabby ignominiously from his seat and tore 
madly along. Judith gave a cry of terror. 

“ He has bolted,” burst from Savelli. “ Shall I start 
in pursuit or remain with you, Miss Kent ?” During 
this speech both have slightly quickened their horses’ 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


1 86 

pace. “ We will both go,” she replied with a tighten- 
ing of her lips, at the same time urging her horse 
somewhat faster. ‘ But you can not keep your seat,” 
and considerable fear is evinced in Savelli’s voice. 

“ Try me !” Judith responds, as grasping the reins 
more firmly they both bound off after the fast depart- 
ing cab. Fortunately for that “ knowing horse,” as 
madame declared afterward, he took the quietest 
roads ; nevertheless he went very fast, and John 
King had to exert all his strength to restrain madame 
from jumping headlong into the road. 

“We shall be killed, John King!” she sobbed. 
“ Killed ! I tell yon he v/ill make for the embankment 
and the river !” But having passed these safely, 
Madame De Sequeria sank back relieved for a mo- 
ment, until the people following the runaway had in- 
creased to a crowd, shrieking and yelling to their 
utmost, which proved a fresh cause of distress to 
madame. 

“ Tell them not to make so much noise !” she cried, 
wringing her hands. “ It frightens the horses more !” 

“ Stop that howling.!” shrieked King from the cab 
window ; but the cries for assistance, or rather desist- 
ance, were lost in the general confusion which sur- 
rounded them. At last the reins caught Olivia’s and 
King’s eyes and simultaneously each clutched one. 
Until this moment King had not felt the least fear ; 
but now as he saw that the beast was in no way less- 
ening his speed, and further realized that they were 
approaching a busier locality, a certain amount of 
fear did take possession of his mind. But what could 
one do with a single rein, as Olivia idiotically per- 
sisted in retaining her hold ? fortunately she made no 
attempt to draw it tightly, otherwise much damage 
might have been done. 

“ I shall feel, better,” she gasped, “ if I hold to this ; 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 1 8 / 

it does not matter, the end is near,” she continued 
with melancholy resignation. 

At this moment sounds of galloping hoofs reached 
King’s ears ; instinctively he felt it must be Judith 
and Savelli following ; the speed of the cab seemed 
to be slacking somewhat, but poor madame was as 
white as death. 

I think the worst is over,” John King said quietly. 
Sure enough, slower, and yet more slowly rolled the 
cab ; weaker, and weaker grew the beast, until with 
a final unsuccessful effort to go one step further, 
hands were reached forth to grasp the bridle, and 
they came to a full stop before an undertaker’s shop. 

Madame assisted by King stepped out of the cab, 
when, beholding the sign of the undertaker, she man- 
aged inconveniently to faint. At this point Judith 
and Savelli arrived, their horses covered with sweat, 
and their own disordered, frightened appearance add- 
ing dramatic effect to the scene. Upon seeing the 
perplexing situation in which King was involved, 
Savelli hastily dismounted for the purpose of assist- 
ing him bear the ponderous figure of Madame De 
Sequeria into the shop that had so greatly alarmed 
her. 

“ Poor Olivia ! it is all my fault,” and with a feeling 
of self-reproach Judith bent over madame, to assist 
in the effort that was being made to restore her. 

“ Oh, no. Miss Kent ! it was an accident. I think 
she is reviving,” comments King. 

Madame does open her eyes, but on beholding her 
gruesome surroundings she gave a shriek of terror 
and relapsed once more into her former state of un- 
consciousness. 

“ It is the coffins !” exclaims Judith. 

As madame responds once more to the vigorous 
efforts being made to restore her, Savelli assures her 
that she is not dead ; and madame, very much alive. 


i88 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


rises to her feet and begins to consider the most 
advantageous and expeditious way of reaching home. 

“ Will you have a cab, dear ?” Judith asks. 

“ A cab, never.” 

** By the underground, then ?” 

“I should be smothered.” 

“ A bus ?” 

“ No ! no ! nothing with a horse attached to it.” 

What was to be done ? 

“ I shall walk,” says madame, emphatically. 

“Walk!” they all exclaim, “but you are miles 
from St. James,” 

“ Nevertheless, I shall walk.” 

“ But you are too weak to walk, Olivia dear,” re- 
monstrates Judith. 

“ I shall walk.” 

, This determination is both serious and funny ? 

“ Mr. King, will you walk with her ?” inquired 
Judith. 

“ Why, yes, certainly,” responded King. 

So Judith and Savelli leave Olivia in the care of 
King. Judith, feeling much relieved to know that a 
serious accident has been averted, smiles upon 
Savelli as they pursue their way together. 

“ I tell you. Miss Kent, this will be an experience 
to laugh over when madame has fully recovered ; 
that horse was controlled, I believe, to a certain 
extent by madame’s peculiar hypnotic power. Was 
there anyone like her ?” 

“ Do come in and wait their return, Mr. Savelli,” 
invites Judith, as they dismounted before the door. 
The waiting groom takes both horses, while Judith 
enters the house followed by Savelli, 

“ They will be a long time coming, undoubtedly,” 
Judith comments as they stepped into the pretty little 
sitting-room. “ We had better have lunch ; will you 
excuse me until I have changed my habit ?” 


lOHN KING, MANAGER. 1^9 

Certainly, mademoiselle ; but can I stay to lunch 
in these ?” Savelli gives a deprecatory glance at his 
clothes. 

“Of course, they are very becoming, “ Judith avers. 

He turned toward her with a bow of a cavalier. 
“ My lady Judith is so charming in any dress, I always 
find the last the most becoming,” he responded, gal- 
lantly. 

“A pretty compliment,” Judith thinks, “and I so 
dislike compliments.” Nevertheless she arrays her- 
self in a remarkably becoming gown, when she re- 
appears to find luncheon spread, at which they both 
seat themselves. For a time madame and John King 
wending their weary way St Jamesward are quite 
forgotten. The- time passed very agreeably ; at last 
the table was cleared, and as the day had grown dull 
and foggy, both drew up to the open grate, where 
Savelli sat smoking while Judith chattered ; or 
Savelli chatted, and Judith — oh, no ! Judith did not 
smoke, she simply rolled Savelli’s cigarettes for him, 
in the daintiest, prettiest, manner, just as she rolled 
them for madame. 

It was four o’clock when John King and madame 
appeared upon the scene. Now, if either Savelli or 
Judith were looking forward to a fatigued, hapless, 
miserable Olivia, they were both mistaken. For it 
transpired that upon starting homeward she had dis- 
covered that they were in the vicinity of some pawn- 
shops. If there was one thing madame delighted in 
more than another, it was a pawn-shop. It naturally 
happened during her inspection and purchase of an- 
tiques and useless articles, she forgot the terror with 
which her recent accident had inspired her and be- 
came in fact rejuvenated. From pawn-shop to pawn- 
shop she dragged King, his patience becoming ex- 
hausted in proportion as his fatigue and appetite in- 
creased. 


JOHN KING, MANAGiSR. 


tgd 

I feel quite myself, Mr. King,” Madame De 
Sequeria chirped merrily ; madame was accustomed 
to chirp merrily when people became exhausted in her 
service. King looked hurt but said nothing. It was 
only when he was on the point of dropping all the 
purchases and subsiding to a neighboring curbstone, 
that it occurred to dear madame he might be both 
tired and hungry. Then she had suggested lunch ; 
after which more curiosity shops were investigated 
and more antiques purchased. John King’s temper 
was exhausted, his arms were nearly broken, his 
mustache gnawed to a single hair. 

“ Poor dear, he is tired ! but these things are so 
antique and valuable,” madame explained consolingly, 
when King had dropped into a corner the fire-dogs, 
brass candle-sticks and warming-pans which depended 
from all available points upon which madame could 
hang a treasure, which altogether weighed some forty 
or fifty pounds. 

Are you tired. King V* Savelli’s outward appear- 
ance is quite serious. “ You bear a striking resem- 
blance to a Jew pack-peddler.” 

“ I really think,” King returns tartly, “ that my 
labors to-day in the service of the fair should establish 
forever my reputation for gallantry.” With this re^ 
mark he throws himself into the most comfortable 
chair in the room. 

Certainly it was enough to drive a man mad ; all he 
had been through that day, while it was most evi- 
dent that Savelli had lounged here before the fire, 
gracefully entertaining and charmingly entertained. 
It required considerable philosophy on King’s part to 
assume in such a situation any appearance of amiabil- 
ity, but suppressing all exhibition of temper he 
dropped quietly into the conversation, while madame, 
with Savelli’s assistance, proceeded to arrange her 
recently purchased fire-irons, candle-sticks, warming- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. igt 

pans and the rest of her paraphernalia about the 
room for the edification of the company. 

It was thought advisable by madame, to leave 
London on the second of July, having arranged to 
meet her favorite nephew, Lenartson, in Paris on that 
date. King and Savelli were to leave a few days 
earlier, but Judith’s patriotic spirit prevailed, and the 
party all remained over for Minister Bayard’s recep- 
tion upon the “ Fourth,” leaving for Paris the day 
following. King and Savelli crossed to Havre, while 
Judith and madame reached Paris by the way of New 
Haven and Dieppe. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Upon their arrival in Paris madame and Judith 
drove to No. — Rue Drouot. It was not an imposing 
structure before which the voiture stopped, and 
madame hesitated before allowing the luggage to be 
lifted from the position it shared with the coueher. 
Judith was advised to retain her seat while madame 
went to investigate. The concierge was not at her 
post, so madame painfully climbed the five long 
flights of stairs, gasping at each turn as “Bank,” 
“ Tenement to Rent,” and various other signs met her 
gaze, silently informing her that those at least were 
not her points of destination. Arriving upon the 
sixth floor at last, breathless and exhausted, madame 
paused to survey the situation. At last she rang the 
bell, which was answered by a servant who was happy 

to say that Madame and Monsieur K were within, 

awaiting the arrival of two American ladies. 

“ Heaven be praised there are no more stairs !’' 


JOHN KING, MANAGE^. 

madame softly ejaculated, as she entered the salon, 
where she was greeted by a tall, graceful woman. 

As Madame K glanced inquiringly behind Olivia 

for Judith, Madame De Sequeria explained that her 
friend was below, and asked if she might speak to her 
from the window, as she thinks dubiously of those five 
long flights of stairs. 

Certainly,” Madame K replied. “ Cannot 

Jean go down ; the luggage must be brought up.” 

“ But I fear the poor child will not understand ; she 
has rather an imperfect command of the language 
upon which madame puts her head out of the window, 
shrilly calling to the speck below that she is to get 
out of the carriage and come up stairs immediately. 
Judith, whose mind is otherwise occupied, sits gazing 
about at the shop windows unheeding madame’s com- 
mand. 

“ Hie ! hie ! Judith ! Judith dear !” madame calls. 
As Judith does not appear to comprehend, she practi- 
cally shoots forth her arms, belaboring the air with 
her umbrella, attracting the attention of the passers-by. 
One would never suspect, seeing madame in this dis- 
tracted condition, that she was the dignified and ele- 
gant lady that she could appear upon occasion ; but 
madame was gifted with a spirit of humor which led her 
unconsciously to act a comedy in real life. It became 
quite evident to the distracted lady above that the 
complacent speck of humanity below is likely to sit 
there all night, unless she redoubles her efforts, 
whereupon she begins to shout more vigorously : 
“ Hie ! hie ! Judith ! Judith !” Finding it useless to 
call, madame concluded to descend those five flights 
of stairs. The first intimation which Judith had of 
madame’s presence, was a puffing at her elbow. She 
turned to behold Olivia’s indignant face, upon which 
Judith is all penitence forher temporary fit of abstrac- 
tion. 


JOHN KING, manager. 


^93 


** It is all right, Judith dear,” inadame pants, as she 
pulls herself up by means of the balustrade and an 
occasional hoist from Judith. As Olivia appeared 

once more before Madame K , Judith was properly 

introduced, after which they were shown to their 

apartments. Madame K informed them that 

their dinner would be served to them there, as they 
were undoubtedly too tired to meet the people in the 
salk-d,-manger . Judith assisted her dear, tired Olivia 
to remove her wraps, found her a comfortable chair, 
and with the appearance of dinner, madame revived. 

In the midst of the meal the door was thrown hastily 
open, after a short, peremptory rap, to admit an ele- 
gantly dressed and handsome young man, who rushed 
in upon them without apology, answering the joyful 
cry of madame as she rose to greet him by casting him- 
self into her outstretched arms ; even before madame 
had time to introduce him, Judith recognized in the 
beautiful Greek face of the young stranger madame’s 
much adored nephew, Lenar tson, whose beauty was 
of so remarkable a type as to have led Whistler to 
distinguish it by painting him in the Greek attire. 
The portrait at the present time was in the posses- 
sion of the Duchess de M . 

“ This is,” said madame at last, turning blandly 
upon Judith, “ my dear boy, Lenartson. I shall ex- 
pect you and Miss Kent to gratify my long concealed 
wishes by falling in love with each other at once.” 
Judith rose, blushing and smiling very sweetly as she 
offered her hand to the young man. 

“ I have long since anticipated that wish,” he re- 
marked with easy grace, “ by failing in love with 
your excellent pen portrait of Miss Kent. I assure 
you your voluble and enthusiastic description is far 
surpassed by the original ” 

Judith interrupted this speech by her brisk objec- 
tion to this species of gallantry. 


194 


JOHN KING, MANAGEk. 

“ Do not, I beg you, prejudice our good acquain- 
tance by presenting me with your gentlemanly sugar- 
plums. I assure you, Mr. Lenartson, I prefer spice 
and acids to so much sweets as are deemed proper for 
your sex to offer to mine.” 

“ But ” he smiled, looking into her face inquir- 

ingly. 

“ Yes, I know I am rather good-looking, as you are 
yourself, but I am sick to death of being talked to 
about it.” 

“Anyway,” he continued, not ill-pleased by her 
originality, “ you will permit me to say at least that 
I am very happy to make the charming acquaintance 
of so sweet and sensible a girl.” 

“That will do, thank you,” she replied, as she re- 
sumed her seat at the table by madame’s side. 

“Oh, yes!” responded madame, tartly, “Judith’s 
vanity runs all to virtue and none to skin ; for myself, 
I see no more weakness in swallowing a compliment 
to your complexion than to taking such monstrous 
doses of flattery paid to one’s worth. I think it is 
very pleasant to be pink and white, with regular fea- 
tures and soft dove throat and red hair like Judith’s ; 
but our dear young lady here has a passionate hypo- 
crisy for good behavior.” 

As they finished their dinner madame suggests, in 
her breezy fashion, that they drive for awhile, where- 
upon Lenartson not only consents but began to vol- 
ubly describe to Judith the delights and wonders 
of Paris, until the girl, full of the eager excitement 
and impatience natural to youth, began to put on her 
hat and gloves, urging madame at the same time to 
hurry her preparations. Before they parted that 
night it was arranged that Lenartson should take up 
his abode at the Pension. “He will be such a help 
and protection, Judith dear,” madame had remarked 
that night in the privacy of her room, “and he knows 


JOHN ICINC, MANAGER. Ig^ 

everything, I assure you. Do you not think him very 
handsome ?” 

“Very !” Judith responded, as she bademadame an 
affectionate good night. The next morning Judith is 
awakened about eleven o’clock by the maid who brings 
the morning chocolate, une, petit e j)ain^ and the letters. 
Slipping into a pretty silk 'negligee, Judith makes a 
pilgrimage to madame’s apartments armed with the 
tray. Her dear Olivia is like a great beautiful baby, 
just awakened, she declares, as she surveys madame 
from the doorway. Olivia laughs at Judith’s efforts to 
walk steadily across the room in order to keep the con- 
tents of the tray from spilling. Judith’s bright hair 
falls acrpss her face, impeding both sight and progress, 
une petite pain bobbed off the tray to the floor, and it 
is with much difficulty that Judith manages to place 
the tray safely upon the stand by madame’s side, after 
which she curls up in a big chair, and both she and 
madame discuss their breakfast and letters together. 
At one o’clock Lenartson calls to take them down to 
dejeuner. Much curiosity had been felt by the 
guests of the Pension as to the anticipated arrival of 
the two American ladies ; everyone seemed mentally 
on tiptoe. An univeral assent of admiration greeted 
Olivia and Judith as they made a rather imposing 
entrance with the handsome figure of Lenartson in 
the background. The formal introductions were a 
little trying, as each of the sixteen persons sitting 
about the table rose to bow their acknowledgments. 
Madame was placed at Lenartson’s side opposite 
Judith, who sat between a Swedish gentleman by the 
name of Svensen, and a certain Herr Hidman. 
Judith felt surprisingly at her ease ; her two neigh- 
bors spoke English well, and the conversation ran in 
smooth and interesting channels. Both gentlemen 
vied with each other in their efforts to impart infor- 
mation concerning the guests assembled about the 


96 


John king, manager. 


table. Svensen tells her that the gentleman upon 
Madame K— ’s right is Herr Nordstrom, the Swedish 
consul ; he speaks no English, but plays the piano 
beautifully. The tall fraulein opposite Nordstrom is 
a source of great annoyance to him ; for she insists 
upon imposing her unwelcome presence continually 
upon him. Svensen fears his turn will come next, 
and that he has been selected for the unenviable task 
of playing agreeable to the most disagreeable person 
he ever had the misfortune to meet. 

I do not speak to her whatever,” Hidman says, 
joining in the conversation. Hidman’s English is 
most original. “ The stout, red-faced gentleman is an 
actor connected with a Berlin theatre,” Svensen con- 
tinued, “ and the lady beyond him is from New York ; 
she speaks French with a perfect American accent, 
invariably ending her sentences with a mechanical 
^ N'est — ce pas^ oui^oui ; she sings the second oui' a 
third lower than the first without once varying the 
tone. The plump young lady sitting still farther 
down the table,” Hidman continues, “ requested my 
eyelashes the other day.” 

“Your eyelashes?” inquired Judith, glancing into 
his face ; she beholds his wonderful brown eyes look- 
ing out between their long, curling black lashes, as 
clear and innocent as a child just awakening from an 
angelic dream. It was not a wonder that the young 
American girl envied him the possession of such 
eyes, but it certainly was very bold to speak to him 
about them. 

He adds then that “ only an American woman 
would take such a liberty.” This is said thought- 
lessly, and Judith was quick to resent it ; upon which 
he apologizes, “ You are not a bit like an American. 
You do not bluster and talk so loud and fast as many 
of the American ladies whom T have met. You have 
repose and grace in you, mademoiselle.” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


197 


“You are very gallant to say so,” returns Judith 
pleasantly, “ however, I fear you have been furnished, 
for observation, with some poor examples of Ameri- 
can ladies.” 

“ Shall you remain long in Paris ?” Svensen asked. 

“ Two months probably,” is Judith’s reply. 

“ You will allow me then to show you some of the 
sights of Paris. Will you not?” 

“ Before J udith has time to respond, madame, whose 
weather eye and attentive ear have both been on 
duty, nods pleasantly and answers, We should in- 
deed be pleased, Herr Svensen.” 

“ That is what you call in America, getting the ‘ in- 
side track,’ Hidman asserts quietly. 

‘‘Yes,” laughed Judith, 

“ And once you have the inside track you never — 
what do you say — get ‘ switched off.’ ” 

“Judith, dear,” madame interrupts, “ I think it is 
time for the carriage.” Madame has planned a shop- 
ping tour for the afternoon. 

“ Must you really go ?” asks Hidman as Judith 
rises. 

“ Oh, yes, indeed, madame’s word is law,” and with 
a pretty bow to the remaining guests Judith follows 
Olivia and Lenartson out of the room. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Judith and madame had promised to loan Lenart- 
son for one evening to the American guests of the 
Pension. The Americans were exceedingly proper, 
and consequently desired to see all the improprieties 
of Paris ; at the last moment Judith and madame 
yvevQ prevailed upon by Lenartson to shar^ his rp 


198 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


vSponsibility ; then Hidman was called into requisi- 
tion. As the voitures wended their way through to 
Rue de Martyrs they came so suddenly from the dark 
streets into the brilliant square that for a moment 
they were blinded by the effect of dazzling lights. 
As they passed the “ Rat Mort,” Lenartson explained 
to Judith that one might quite safely take a seat just 
outside of this place to quietly watch the ways of the 
habitues. “ Every one is familiar with the ‘ Latin 
Quarter,’” Lenartson continued, “at all hours inter- 
esting, but not every one is familiar with the ‘ Rat 
Mort,’ or ‘ Bruant’s.’ The former is patronized by a 
class of cocottes belonging particularly to this quar- 
ter, where an acquaintance of an hour is all that is 
expected, and the wheel of fortune turns more rapidly 
than within the ‘ Latin Quarter ’ for the cocotte who 
reigns supreme on one evening, surrounded by a 
bevy of men, and consequently the recipient of sneer- 
ing and envious glances from her associates, may be 
seen upon the following evening wandering disconsol- 
ately up and down the Boulevard ; no one seemingly 
having the slightest desire to bask in the sunshine of 
her heavily rouged smiles, or watch the graceful ges- 
tures and the drooping of the blackened lids in their 
attitude of assumed modesty.” 

“ Braunts ” was farther down the Square, where, 
after much turning of bolts and bars, the party was 
admitted to be entertained by various songs, in the 
choruses of which every one who is familiar is sup- 
posed to join. They were assured that Bruant him- 
self would appear at midnight, but this Lenartson de- 
clared was a fallacy, for Braunt seldom came to ex- 
hibit himself now ; so they had to be content to see 
the numerous portraits of him upon the wall done by 
famous artists, trusting to catch a glimpse of him 
dressed in his corduroys, high boots and sombrero 
some day upon the Boulevard, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


199 


“ His songs had made him famous madame re- 
marked, “ and the place is truly worth seeing if only 
for the excellent beer one gets, or the pictures and 
sketches upon the walls ; expressing as they do, 
probably, the bare but unrecognized talent of some 
great geniuses.” 

“ They will sing a song of welcome to you upon 
your arrival,” Lenartson breaks in, and call you 
pigs when you depart ; but if you come frequently 
and the artists come to recognize you, they may grasp 
you by the hand and save some special bit of poetry 
to recite, or some enchanting little love melody to 
sing for your edification.” In fact, a poor deformed 
individual attracted by Judith’s charming face in- 
formed Lenartson that he would sing particularly for 
mademoiselle. This song proved such a delicious 
love song and. was sung with so much feeling that it 
brought tears to the eyes of the audience. Lenart- 
son returned the compliment by reciting Hamlet’s 
soliloquy from the top of the table. 

Judith could jiot resist shaking hands with her 
musical admirer, thanking him heartily for his song. 
Madame remonstrated somewhat as they left the 
place, deploring Judith’s democratic spirit, although 
she would have shaken hands with him herself had 
Judith not forestalled her. They rattled off across 
the pavements to the Cafe de Concierge. The pro- 
prietor was originally an actor in Lisbon, afterward 
a colonel in the Commune, later he was sentenced to 
New Guinea, having returned to Paris about ten 
years ago. Judith could easily imagine the red rag 
bound about that shock of hair. The figure was 
short and squarely built, but very commanding. 
Absolute silence was demanded here, when the so- 
called artists, the ‘ quality ’ varying as much as the 
‘ quantity,’ performed. As they left the Cafe de 
Qoncierge Lenartson explained, while crossing the 


200 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

square, that they .would now inspect the Cabinet de 
Neant. 

They had arrived at the entrance of the “ Chamber 
of Death,” which Lenartson had persuaded Judith 
she should enter, as it was a popular curiosity, and 
Madame De Sequeria acquiesced, with now and then 
a faint remonstrance interpolating her consent, such 
as : “ If you take the poor child into that infernal 
racket, Lenartson, don’t, for heaven’s sake, expect me 
to torture myself for your convenience !” 

“ Racket !” protested Lenartson ; “ why there is no 
racket about it at all, my dear auntie.” 

“ What do you call that howling I would like to 
know } ‘ Silence de la Chambre de la Mort. ' I tell 
you, Judith, it is a perfectly heathenish old bonq-shop, 
full of uncoffined terrors ; it all ought to be arrested 
and shut up by the police.” 

By this time they had arrived at the black curtains 
which closed the inner mysteries of the “ Chamber of 
Death ” from the bright, glittering Paris moving 
around it. Madame burst forth afresh, affected by a 
new sense of horror with which the gruesome place 
inspired her. 

‘‘I will not permit you, Lenartson, to take Judith 
into that place ! If you want to go yourself and get 
decomposed and knocked upon the head by the jaw- 
bone of a dead thing, why I have no authority over 
such a reprehensible taste ; but I vow you shall not 
spoil J udith’s pretty color and upset her nerves by 
anything so hideous.” 

What is it, madame ?” inquired Judith, whose 
curiosity, urged on by Lenartson’ s spirit of venture 
on one side, was checked by madame’s fear on the 
other. 

“ I will tell you, Judith ; you will sit at a table 
made like a coffin — is it a pleasant prospect ? No, be 
quiet ; I will not allow any men^ber of my family^ 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


201 


however good-looking, to betray a girl’s confidence ; 
indeed, you should be ashamed of yourself, sir ! When 
you are seated, you will be served by men wearing 
death’s heads and dressed like undertakers ; each of 
these precious beauties will approach you with a 
skull filled with wine — the skull in the hand, I mean 
— and bearing a monstrous thigh-bone with which he 
will rap you upon the shoulder. Of course,” persisted 
madame, as she rose in her indignation upon the tips 
of her toes, and in this comical attitude stood staring 
down upon them with an air of superior scorn, “ if 
you do not happen to enjoy such delicate pastime, it 
seems to be the legitimate business of these imps of 
darkness to increase your aversion by turning delight- 
ful paintings into writhing skeletons, and transform- 
ing your fair body by thrusting you into a coffin, 
where you are slowly decomposed for the amusement 
of more experienced visitors. Oh, it is so funny,” 
sneered madame, “ to step from this lovely world of 
living things into that old skeleton shop, in order that 
one may be transformed into a grinning corpse for 
the entertainment of one’s friends !” 

“ For heaven’s sake ! *is she telling the truth, Mr. 
Hidman ?” i 

“ Not half of it, my dear ” 

“ She exaggerates somewhat,” declared Lenartson. 
“ You need not go into the coffins unless you are inter- 
ested in the illusion. It is very curious, however, 
watching the transformation of the paintings ; and I 
must confess it is rather suggestive of all that Olivia 
described.” 

I really believe I do not care to go,” concluded 
Judith, who was joined by Hidman and a nervous 
spinster, who unitedly declared they had no desire to 
anticipate their end, and preferred to wait for Lenart- 
son and his party outside. 

Jiladame and the nervous spinster seated themselves 


202 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


at a small table, regardless of the fact that they would 
be asked to drink by others than the proprietor of 
the place. Madame declared herself too tired to walk 
about, but would permit Hidman and Judith to take 
a turn down the Boulevard. “ It was more than a 
turn they took, however,” madame declared after- 
wards. As they did not return, she became annoyed 
at the nervous spinster, who fretted and fumed and 
attracted attention by her fidgety ways, then by a 
.smirking individual who addressed them. Madame 
rising in a fury of wrath rushed to the entrance of 
the gruesome ‘ Cabinet de Neant.' Lenartson was 
seated with his pilgrims at the coffin-shaped table, 
when looking up he espied madame’s black and white 
chapeau thrust through the gloomy black hangings, 
and madame’s hurt countenance, so expressive of in- 
sulted virtue, gazing about distractedly ; regardless of 
the attending undertakers and the demand for silence, 
she delivered herself of the following grief-laden re- 
marks : 

“ Lenartson, you must come out here at once !” 

Before Lenartson had time to reply, an attendant 
called to madame to remove her head ; at the same 
time rushing forward he held the curtains together, 
but madame valiantly poked her black and white 
chapeaued head into another opening, with this re- 
mark : 

“ Lenartson, I tell you a man has insulted us !” 

Lenartson attempted to rise, but was held down by 
force, the pilgrims imploring him not to leave them 
in this awful place. Again the attendant had drawn 
the curtains over madame’s head, and this time as 
she made a puncture below the man’s hand, Lenartson 
began to laugh. “ Take your head away !” he cried. 

” Where shall I take it to ?” Olivia demanded. 
“ Judith and Hidmaii haye left us, gone undoubtedly 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 203 

to that disreputable restaurant across the Square." 
Madame referred to the “ Dead Rat." 

“ I tell you I have — ’’ Again the attendant shut 
madame’s head from view, and the remainder of the 
sentence was lost ! Once more the head re-appeared ; 
tears are coursing down madame’s cheeks. This be- 
ing compelled to thrust her head in and out, together 
with her injured innocence, insulted virtue, and de- 
sertion in the streets of Paris, was sufficient cause for 
a great disturbance of Madame’s feelings, but to be 
told to take her poor old head elsewhere, when she 
had not a sou to her name, was the climax of all her 
imaginary woes. 

“ Oh, if it’s money you are without,’’ laughs Lenart- 
son, who now remembers that he is banker for the 
excursion, here it is ;’’ and from his position at the 
table, he tosses a five-franc piece toward the head, 
and a hand supposedly belonging to it catches the 
money eagerly. They hear madame say as the head 
is withdrawn, “All right, meet me at the Dead Rat,’’ 
with all the airs of a cocotte who has made a ren- 
dezvous. 

The following evening Judith is confined to her 
room by a sick headache, but madame, whose vitality 
is such that a few hours’ rest will compensate and re- 
store outraged nature, is as brisk and ready as ever 
for movement and amusement. She says, aggriev- 
edly, that, “ Of course she will remain at home, it 
would be such a pleasure to bathe Judith’s head, and 
make mustard paste for the back of her neck ; but 
Judith, who knows that madame is secretly longing to 
go out with her nephew, declines her well-intended 
but rather bungling efforts at nursing. She declares 
to madame that it was only a nervous attack, brought 
about by too much excitement, and that she will im- 
prove much faster if left quite alone for a few hours. 
Whereupon, madame, with such tender condolence as 


504 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


tefits the occasion, makes haste to go off with her 
nephew, who calls at the door about eight o’clock. 
He joins madame in her final expressions of sympa- 
thy, and they go forth together like Sancho at the 
heels of Don Quixote in search of adventure. 

For some time Judith lay quite still, struggling not 
to think, as each thought seemed like a little unoiled 
piston in her brain, creaking and beating against sore 
tissues. Finally she fell asleep, and was dreaming of 
a charming villa shaded by cool lemon trees, in that 
fair Florence whither her hero had departed, when 
she was suddenly aroused by Lenartson and madame 
entering the room, talking confusedly together and 
betraying the greatest excitement. It became evi- 
dent to Judith’s startled ears that madame was weep- 
ing, while Lenartson appeared to be engaged in a 
fruitless effort to calm and console her. 

The only sound that was clearly audible was 
madame’s spasmodic ejaculations rolling out in a pure 
dramatic soprano, “ Oh, the place was pulled ! the 
place was pulled !” 

Lenartson appeared not in the least disconcerted 
by this terrifying statement, but doubling himself 
together like the sudden spring of a jack-knife, burst 
into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 

But what is the trouble, for Heaven’s sake ?” cried 
the distressed girl from the bed. Upon this they 
both united their voices in an effort to explain, pro- 
ducing such a jumble of English and French that they 
naturally confused matters more than ever. Each 
discovered some alarming discrepancy in the other’s 
statement, and they began unitedly to accuse each other 
of distending or warping the truth to meet his or her 
particular fancy. After a while, madame, overcome 
by excitement and useless expostulation, subsided by 
throwing herself into a chair, still tearful and pouting, 
wUile Lenartson, ntaster of the situation began to 


JOHN KING, MAl^AGfiR. 


205 


apologize for his late intrusion and his noisy disturb- 
ance, after which he proceeded to give a detailed ac- 
count of the evening’s performance with his aunt in 
an anarchist den. 

“ I must confess to 5delding to Olivia’s importun- 
ities to take her across the Seine into a rather objec- 
tionable quarter of the city. She insisted that I had 
promised to do Paris thoroughly, and to be done 
thoroughly was to know at once wise Paris, beautiful 
Paris, God-like Paris, if there was any such a thing, 
and black wicked Paris. She preferred to go to the 
bottom and so work up through the four stratas of 
society, and to the bottom she urged me to-night 
with a vengeance. Into an underground chamber or 
cellar which attracted her attention I was hurried. 
It was devoted to the entertainment and instruction 
of the lower class of poor working men.' Into this 
place Olivia ” 

“ No ! no !” protested Madame De Sequeria, “ you 
dragged me, your venerable aunt, you wicked boy, into 
that fearful place of thieves and assassins.” 

“ Yes, mademoiselle, into this infamous place I was 
dragged by my precious aunt, where both lives were 
imperilled to gratify her enlarged organ of curiosity, 
which she politely calls intelligent investigation. 
Here were men in rough blouses, and here, it is said, 
Hugo met with other noted political conspirators 
prominent in the reign of the third Napoleon. The 
place was well known to the police. 

“ An old piano filled the disused fireplace, and down 
sat madame in the dust regardless of the expense of 
her gown. Over the piano leaned a man who 
watched madame’s face intently, and an old woman 
crouched near by. 

“ ‘ Poor fellow,’ smiled madame, complacently, quite 
as much at ease and as full of confidence as she might 
have been in St. James Palace. 


2o6 


JOHN KING, MANAGEK. 


“ ‘ Poor fellow ! they probably never saw a real, 
live lady in this place before ; now listen, while I en- 
tertain them/ As she spoke, she struck a few notes 
upon the piano, humming an air from Rusticana ; in- 
terrupting herself with another seraphic and beam- 
ing glance into my face, she declared : 

“ ‘ How noble and romantic ! it will sound lovely 
in print next season, you must write it up in your 
cleverest style, you know, for the American papers/ ” 

‘‘Judith! oh ! but it was a gruesome place !” in- 
terrupted madame from her side of the room. “A 
miserable hole like a tomb, with walls and ceiling of 
chalky whiteness, with secret passages closed by 
iron doors leading to no one knows where. There 
were low, stooped arches, under which three men 
suddenly appeared, and one of them, pausing to fix 
an intelligent and awful eye upon Lenartson, pulled 
forth a book, where he stood a moment staring at us 
jointly and writing like the recording angel.” 

“Miss Kent,” interrupted Lenartson, “my dear 
Olivia now commenced to look upon the scene as 
something less enchanting than St. James Palace. 
She dropped her hands upon the piano and coolly 
desired me to assume control of the place by order- 
ing these men to retire just a step before her medi- 
tated departure. Madame discovered that the air was 
vile, and she pined for a change of atmosphere, but 
she insisted that I should instruct these formidable 
men to pass out a little before her, like an advance 
guard to a column of soldiers, I was under the pain- 
ful necessity of informing her that we were under 
arrest, and should in all probability be sent to Sibe- 
ria. As the officers advanced upon us, she grew 
pale, and trembled so violently I was obliged to sup- 
port her, while endeavoring to reply to her questions. 
Some freak had taken possession of my dear Olivia, 
who thought to be dumb was a safe method, and I, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


207 


Recommending her good sense, agreed to this by say- 
ing, that ‘ madame is dumb, she cannot speak,’ where- 
upon with that unaccountable perversity of the sex, 
she burst forth in perfect English : 

“ ‘ Oh, Mister, please do not send me to Siberia, and 
I won’t do it again, I won’t do it again.’ 

“ ‘ But we have not done anything,’ I denied. 

“‘Oh, I know we haven’t,’ moans madame, ‘but 
we won’t do it again.- Oh ! poor Aunt Rosie up in 
White Plains with her bible on her knee ! what would 
she say if she saw me now ! I really haven’t done 
anything ; I only sang an air from Rusticana,’ and 
then madame clutched the old woman's hand for pro- 
tection. 

“ The old woman commenced to scribble some 
hieroglyphics upon a dirty piece of paper that she 
thrust into my hand. 

“ Madame protests that she was ‘ only singing an 
air from Rusticana,’ at which the officers cannot re- 
press a smile ; then I explained in a manner that was 
sufficiently satisfactory to the officers to take their 
departure, while Olivia and I made our exit, and the 
old woman cried, "Vive Vanarchie !' which caused 
Olivia to grip me violently.” 

“ 1 declare,” she explains to Judith, “ that visions 
of Siberia, like a continuous season of one night 
stands was flying through my brain, and I will never, 
never leave this room for fear of being ‘ run in.’ ” 

“ We talk like a pair of idiots ; do we not, made- 
moiselle ? I beg your pardon for my rudeness once 
more, but if I did not help out this statement on the 
side of truth, I fear Olivia would tell such an extrav- 
agant tale as would completely upset you.” 

“ It is high time you went to your own room, sir,” 
commanded his aunt tragically, rising and opening 
the door for his departure, “ you are the most dis- 


2oS JOHN KING, manager. 

reputable nephew a respectable woman ever had the 
charity to acknowledge." 

“ And you are the dearest auntie in the world," he 
replied, fondly kissing her cheek as he bade Judith 
good-night.” 

“ Do come to bed, Olivia, and tell me how much of 
this story is true. I do believe you have had a dull 
evening and have gotten up this scene betv/een you 
and have been shedding ‘prop ’ tears to amuse me.” 

“ I did go into that anarchist den,” she avers sol- 
emnly. The next day they have a letter from 
King in which he grows rapturous over Italy, and 
informs them that Savelli is teaching him one manly 
art — that he is learning to fence. He closed by say- 
ing that he will soon return to Paris for one blessed 
day, and sends graceful salutations to both ladies at 
the close of his interesting letter. 

It was the evening before Lenartson’s departure 
from Paris that with Judith and madame he sat out 
upon the balcony. They amused themselves for a 
while watching the cabs roll by, the lights at first 
alone being visible and looking like a pair of gigantic 
fire-flies. Lenartson was sitting upon the balcony 
rail, nonchalantly sending rings of smoke from his 
cigarette into the air. Finally, with a look of intel- 
ligence passing between madame and her charming 
nephew, she declared she must go in at once, which 
she did without further apology. 

“Just one moment, I should like to talk with you, 
mademoiselle,” he said, the red and white alternating 
in his lovely face like the tremulous color on the 
cheek of a sensitive girl. Judith accepted the seat 
he placed for her with an uneasy expression in her 
sweet eyes, raised to his inquiringly. 

Judith never confided to Olivia, neither did Lenart- 
son, what transpired during that interview, but the 
next day he returned to Trouville. 


John king, manager. 


^09 


CHAPTER XIX. 

What do you suppose, Judith !” cried Madame De 
Sequeria, coming into the room ^here Judith sat 
quietly sipping her chocolate, and looking sweet and 
cool in her pretty blue organdie, while madame was 
and excited. 

“What do I think?” interrogated Judith, as she 
laughingly lay an open book face downward on her 
hot knee. 

“ Yes, what do you suppose ! I find someone has 
imitated my bonnet ! The detestable thing ! I will 
never put my face beneath it again.” With which 
she flung the unoffending chapeau upon the floor, 
sending her gloves and parasol shooting after it, like 
missiles of death poured down from a blazing fort 
upon the humiliated enemy. “ And what is worse, 
Baroness Pomp is in town, and has actually recognized 
me and followed me into a cafe.” 

“ Well ! well !” began Judith, rousing up at this an- 
nouncement, as she recognized the name of a beauti- 
ful New York actress who had been doing the adven- 
turess trick for two or three years. 

“ I do hope you had the discretion, Olivia, not to 
give her our present address ; it would be so torment' 
ing and disagreeable, you know.” 

“ ‘ Tormenting and disagreeable !’ ” growled Ma- 
dame De Sequeria, prancing up and down the room 
in a fury. “ Don't I know about it ? She has got 
twenty dollars of my money in her pocket at this very 
moment.” 

“ Why, how foolish, Olivia ! What on earth made 
you do it ; it will prove of no particular benefit to her, 
and will make you appear so soft and available that 


^lO JOHN KING, MANAGED. 

she will hunt you out and fasten herself upon you like 
a leech." 

“Don’t preach to me, Judith ! your hard-headed 
young wisdom sounds far-fetched and hypocritical, 
my dear. What in the world would you do if you 
were literally nailed to the spot by the piteous tears 
and story of a starving woman ? Would you give her 
some money or would you let her starve, I should 
like to know ? Come ! come ! you preach better 
things to me upon occasion, yet, when the practical 
application corners you, you are not up to the mark 
in the practice of your theoretical virtue, I see." 

“ Oh, well !’’ responded the girl, picking up her 
book again and fixing her eyes indifferently upon the 
open page, “ It depends greatly whether the object 
is worthy, and that my gift will not be squandered in 
some fanciful gewgaw to suit a woman’s foolish 
fancy.’’ 

“All I can say is, I had a terrible scene with 
that pretty little wretch ; she made me quite miser- 
able until I gave her that tw^enty dollars." At this 
point madame commenced to cry very daintily behind 
an exquisite lace handkerchief. 

“ It seems to me, Olivia, if my charity was so very 
distressing I should not practice it frequently," sug- 
gested Judith humorously. 

“ Why, I could not possibly refuse the creature ; 
she had some sort of a paper which she thrust under 
my nose to assure me if she did not get the twenty 
dollars she would actually be arrested and shut up in 
as many minutes. I could not allow that, you know, 
as I was acquainted with her when she was as sweet 
and innocent as you are, Judith— in fact, I never did 
find her really guilty ; she is only foolish, you know, 
and is it a crime, I would like to know, to be born soft 
and foolish like Baroness Pomp ?" 

“ No, never wicked, but always foolish !" smiled 


John king, manager. 


Judith as she continued to read ; adding immediately, 
“ By the way, did you look at the paper, Olivia ?” 

“ Read it ? no, indeed ! I had no glasses and the 
writing was sufficient to declare its character. It was 
not necessary to read it ; one look satisfied me that 
Madame Pomp could never have written such a devil 
fist ; poor child !” 

“Oh, Olivia dear! have you any stationery? I 
want to write some letters this very afternoon.” 

“ There ! I had forgotten I had reached the bottom 
of the box ; ma chlrcy do put on your hat and run down 
to the stationers.” 

Pleased to have changed the subject of Olivia’s 
painful cogitations, Judith laughingly picked up her 
friend’s discarded chapeau, setting it jauntily upon 
her own pretty, wavy hair. 

“Charming !” complimented madame. 

“ It looks so well on you, my love, I will, after all, 
prove myself heroic enough to disregard the twin. 
I do not like people to go masquerading in my 
clothes, but you are so sweet, and it is such a dainty, 
well behaved little head, I shall allow you to wear it.” 

Judith put a hasty injunction upon madame’s lips 
by pressing her own against them ; after which she 
hurried from the room, with her pocket-book in her 
hand. She was tripping lightly down the stairs, 
when suddenly she became aware that John King had 
entered at the door of the lower hall and was advanc- 
ing toward her. In joyous surprise she paused upon 
the lower stair, standing as he had first seen her, with 
her face so full of light, her great pathetic eyes shin- 
ing, and the glad rose red upon her lip and cheek. 
In trembling haste to meet the warm clasp of the 
down-stretched hand, he laid his hat upon the table, 
eagerly crossing the space between them. As he 
placed his foot upon the stair she lay her hand almost 
lovingly upon his broad shoulders. With gentle, long- 


JOHN KING, MAnAGEK. 

ing tenderness, he placed his soft warm palms against 
each side of her face. “ My love, ‘ Thou art like 
unto a flower,’ ” he said, as he drew her down, kissing 
her as a brother might have done upon the smooth, 
white forehead. In her impulsive and girlish delight, 
which she could never quite suppress to the becom- 
ing dignity of young ladyish reserve, she took his 
arm, hurrying him up the stairs to madame’s cordial 
welcome. She chatted earnestly, and asked so many 
questions which required so much time for him to 
answer in his grave, deliberate way, that they lin- 
gered a little outside the door. 

“ Bless me !” commented madame, perking up her 
ears, “that sounds like Judith and a man out there.’’ 
With which Madame De Sequeria opened the door 
and beheld them like a couple of foolish lovers. This 
surprising circumstance did not add greatly to 
madame’s sense of propriety and the warmth of her 
reception of her unexpected guest. 

“ Oh !” she exclaimed doubtfully, then remember^ 
ing to be civil she extended her hand as she invited 
the manager to enter the room. 

“ Oh, I am going to the Louvre with him, madame, 
this very afternoon !’’ cried Judith, recklessly avoid- 
ing madame’s reproachful and indignant glances. 

“Well then!” she replied stiffly, “I shall not 
trundle forth again to-day. I am completely upset, 
and just dead tired.” Turning sweetly toward Mr. 
King she resumed, “ Perhaps Mr. King can tell us 
the news at home just as well. How did you like 
Italy, Mr. King. Are Savelli and Florence Winter 
married yet ?” This stab intended to bring Judith to 
her senses failed for once to produce the desired 
effect. The girl seemed to have taken leave of them 
altogether, and appeared utterly oblivious that 
madame had elected herself to be responsible for her 
proper behavior, and that she had told her upon one 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


213 


occasion John King was not a man to be trusted, and 
so had been decided to be no proper companion for her. 
Despite all these previous warnings and the chill of 
disapproval in madame’s manner, the preparation for 
departure went on steadily before her indignant 
eyes. 

“ Won't you go, Olivia dear ? You shall ride to the 
very door.” 

‘‘ Yes, do, it would give me much pleasure, Madame 
De Sequeria,” solicited King, in a not over anxious 
tone. But madame, hoping until the last to impose 
herself as a check to Judith's intention, steadily 
declined their invitation, and found innumerable ex- 
cuses why Judith should remain at home with her. 
She discovered that her bunions were particularly 
fussy, and that her head ached terribly, and that her 
poor stomach was afflicted with nausea, but despite her 
numerous complaints the unsympathetic pair apolo- 
gizing profusely for their cruelty went away to- 
gether, wearing exceedingly happy faces, which was 
a sore cut to madame's vanity and love of empire. 

“ I really feel that it is wrong to leave poor Olivia 
so unhappy,” declared Judith as soon as they were 
outside the door. King shrugged his shoulders in- 
differently. “ Olivia must be first, and you, my dear 
Miss Kent, are too much ruled by her caprice.” 

“ Still I am always uncomfortable when I have 
made persons I am fond of unhappy ; she thought I 
should not have come out this afternoon.” 

“ Don't be foolish. Why should you always pay 
tribute to Madame De Sequeria's notions of propriety. 
I notice on occasions you can manage to conduct 
yourself very well without interference, but directly 
she appears you go into bondage to her opinion, be-, 
coming a sort of humble vassal to fill out her ampler 
life.” 

“ I am not endowed with a spirit of such meek suf- 


214 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


ferance as you imagine, Mr. King,” replied Judith 
v/ith some show of spirit. “ But it is so much easier 
yielding than contending, and I always do love to 
oblige my friends.” 

They had reached the street by this time, and as 
he hailed a voiture, assisting her to enter it, he kept 
his eyes fixed upon her face with a curious smile 
upon his own. 

“ Then why not find some pleasure for once in 
obliging me, Judith. You are old enough to assume 
the responsibility of your own life, you are no longer 
a child, you are a woman. I am a man who knows 
very well what he is about, why should we not be 
here together if we choose ?” 

“ Why ?” she laughed a little recklessly, and 
changed the subject. 

“ Dear ! delightful ! incorrigible girl ! allow me to 
repeat that question, Why ?” 

“Oh ! I cannot tell,” she replied very earnestly, at 
the same time avoiding the tender inquiry of his face. 
“ Only that I am unaccountable to myself. It is 
because I am the offspring of two widely different 
natures, I suppose. The warm Italian blood on one 
side, and the cool Northern brain full of policy and 
conceit to balance it. It makes me at different times, 
first calculating, then impulsive ; first attracting, then 
repelling, accordingly as my father and mother’s 
spirit may alternately be manifested.” 

He leaned back in the carriage looking at her crit- 
ically. She was wearing a grey cloth gown, and a 
little bonnet to match, that was adorned by two heavy, 
white ostrich plumes dropping over the side of her 
bright, wavy hair. The slender oval face, so deli- 
cately tinted rose red and lily white, was a study of 
sharply chiseled lines and softly moulded curves, dim- 
pling at the chin and corner:^ of the red fruity lips. 
All the suggestion of her sensitive features seemed to 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


215 


find expression in her large beautifully shaped, heav- 
ily lashed grey eyes, which this morning seemed 
filled, in their dreamy light, with the suggestion of a 
tragic history. They were pathetic, appealing, and 
far reaching in their sight, as she sat thus turning 
them steadily from the face of her lover out on the 
gay Parisian world. Her eyes were certainly Italian, 
not in their color, but in their character. Some of 
her race had borne their children through a period of 
disaster, which had left its hereditary mark in their 
wonderful expression. As he sat regarding her thus, 
he took into account, with his cool, managing business 
head, all the soft uncertainties of her warm capricious 
nature, while his heart beat anxiously in his bosom. 
She was not to be won like other women. She was 
fastidious in her impressions, and would revolt at a 
fancied strain upon the side of custom, the Northern 
frost and pride tempering and controlling as it did the 
Southern fire in her blood. This was betrayed in the 
proud carriage of her head, and the scornful curve of 
her ripe lips. Her imagination kept her ideals upon 
such lofty pedestals, they were inaccessible through 
their direct avenues. There was but one way, he de- 
termined, to reach her heart, so closely incased in the 
warp of her impracticable dreams ; that, to tear away 
the whole false fabric by a touch of brutality, which 
would recall nature to her natural empire, and reveal 
the woman to herself. They both remained preoc- 
cupied and thoughtful until they arrived at the great 
walled court of the Louvre, when Judith came out of 
her dream with a burst of childish enthusiasm. 

“ Let’s stay out a long time,” she suggested, “and 
visit all the places I have not seen. We will make it 
a season to be remembered ; a red letter day in 
Paris.” 

“ Judith, you are good to me, dear.” She put out 
her white gloved hands as a sort of ratification of the 


2i6 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


treaty between them ; he held them closely pressed 
in his own for a moment ; the sudden white hunger 
of his face, which usually begat in her an attitude of re- 
serve toward him, she did not at this time attempt to 
repel. But he had cause to know her too well to 
abuse his privileges. 

“ Where shall it be ?” 

‘‘ Anywhere, anything you desire !” he responded, 
as he gently dropped her hand from the clasp of his 
tremulous fingers. 

Thank you !” she responded. ** I feel as if I 
should never have another day in all my life just like 
this one, and I propose to enjoy it fully. First to 
Cluney, where there is a wonderful chest whose secrets 
are untold, as no man can undo the lock. Then to 
Saint Chapelle, where that monstrous treaty was 
signed which cost the French nation Alsace. Oh no ! 
I have forgotten : I do get history mixed sometimes ! 
that was at Versailles in the Galerie des Glaces. I 
have been to Notre Dame and St. Germaine ; charm- 
ing St. Germaine ! I have seen the Arc de Triomphe, 
and Bruants, La Rat Mort, and to Versailles, where I 
have gazed upon the greater and lesser Trianon, and 
have considered with becoming solemnity the lessons 
of the hour where history suggests Omnia vanitas 
vanitas vanitatum. 

“Judith !“ interrupted King after instructing the 
co'ucher to drive to Cluney. “ Why are you struggling 
to conceal the little concession you would make so 
flattering to my masculine vanity by all this irrelevant 
talk ?“ 

She attempted to appear unconcerned, but suc- 
ceeded only in looking very guilty. 

“ Oh she responded more gravely, “ I am trying 
to forget just for this one, dear, delightful afternoon, 
that I am twenty — well never^mind how many twentys 
I really am ; I never intend to grow any older, until 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


217 


I am married or dead. She looked at him, laughing 
softly with her beautiful eyes aglow and her face 
flushed with becoming color. “ You are not to hold 
me strictly accountable whatever I may do or say 
this one day. I simply wish to forget and be happy.” 

“ Forget what ?” 

“ That Alessandro Savelli will probably marry 
Florence Winter.” Although this speech was so de- 
livered as to leave some doubt in his mind, it suc- 
ceeded in arresting his ardent attention by filling him 
with angry mortification. He drew himself up 
stiffly. 

“ Oh ! I am regarded not so much for myself, but 
as a valuable envoy from Italy.” With this speech, 
he turned his frowning glance away from her, fixing 
it upon the Seine, which they were crossing at this 
moment. She leaned quickly forward with tears in 
her lovely gray eyes, looking up into his face so 
piteously between her black lashes, “ After all,” she 
complained, “ you are going to slip under an ice 
cover, and so spoil my day.” He did not reply, and 
she from her corner of the luxurious, open carriage, 
began to bestow a little attention, upon the glorious 
view presented to them of this flashing and splendid 
Athens of the modern world. The Seine, a sparkle in 
the sun, over which the pleasure boats swept along 
between the continuous line of bridges to and from 
St. Cloud. The city, as a glowing epitome of the 
French nation, from whose scintillating centre all 
French life seemed to radiate, rose grandly to the 
Acropolis upon which was pillared the majestic dome 
of the Parthenon. Her mind so easily engaged by 
any touch on its sensibilities that appealed to her 
imagination, soon became absorbed in these varied 
scenes of beauty surrounding them. King had no 
wish to be disagreeable to her, and, after the first 
sharp pang of disappointment, he game out of his 


2i8 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


cloud and beamed upon her with renewed warmth 
and attention. He resolved to follow her suggestion, 
and make it a day which she should remember. They 
reached Cluney about one o’clock, its gray courtyard 
walls, turreted and covered with ivy, its mullioned 
windows, gables and square towers looming grandly 
above the thick foliage of the tree adorning the in- 
ner courts. 

“ Do you know the history of this place. Miss 
Kent?” King asked, and it was remarkable that he 
never allowed the familiar name of Judith to pass his 
lips, only upon such occasions as she seemed to ap- 
proach him with some insensible desire expressed for 
familiar terms of acquaintance. 

“ Well, in a general way, that it was the place of 
some old Roman heathen some two hundred years be- 
fore the Christian era.” 

“ If you will give me the pleasure of your attention 
I will officiate as a book of details.” 

“ I shall esteem it a privilege to be able to draw 
upon your valuable stock of information. It is so 
much pleasanter than an incomprehensible French- 
man and an unreadable book.” 

“ Don’t you read French ?” 

“Yes, but like a great many other people who read 
it, I find myself unable to speak it intelligibly.’^ 

“ Then I will tell you what I have learned in the 
way of tradition about this place. First came a lux- 
urious Roman to establish himself in all the tran- 
sported pagan splendor of the immortal city. Time 
and the barbaric shock of wars displaced him ; two 
hundred years later the old place that had sheltered 
as many deities as there were powers and passions to 
represent them, buried as many tragedies as there 
were women to beget them, this old place, desecrated 
by war, wine and wassail became a monastery for 
chanting monks who supplanted this pagan barbarism 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 2ig 

and corruption. Cluney is rebuilt and dedicated to 

Godr 

In the centre of the wall was a ponderous iron 
door, which made Cluney seem like a prison. To the 
right of this they entered through a small, arched 
doorway which stood invitingly open, and from the 
outer court they proceeded to the inner square, where 
they stopped before a winding, stone stairway leading 
to the chapel. 

“ Let us go into the museum by this quaint en- 
trance,” suggested Judith, who was obliged to follow 
King on account of the incommodious width of the 
stairs. Half way up a little balcony jutted out, into 
which they stepped and stood for a moment, side by 
side, looking thoughtfully down upon the gravel walks 
and smooth pavements shaded by beautiful trees, 
whose tender foliage revealed upon the surface of 
every outer leaf the polishing radiance of the sun. 

“ A pretty study of burnished green and gold !” re- 
marked Judith. “ But we have little time to linger, I 
suppose ?” 

“ As you choose, my lady ! I am at your service,” 
he responded gallantly, as he followed her into the 
chapel. To her surprise, as soon as he had entered 
the impressive little room, he evinced a great distaste 
for it and a wish to leave her alone. 

“ Why are you so averse to the chapel ?” she in- 
quired innocently. “ Have you never any religious 
sentiments to disturb the hard surface of your worldly 
thoughts ?” 

I cannot bear a church nor the sound of church 
music. Let us go on to the Museum, or if you wish 
to stop and speculate here upon the disappointments 
and sorrows which sent these old monks to the cloister 
walls— the sins of their wives, their sisters, or their 
pretty sweethearts— the crumbling of the crown 


220 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


which compelled them to the cross — the worship of 
God, because of their hatred of woman — " 

“Oh ! oh !” cried Judith with horror, “do come 
away at once ; how bitter you are ! and how strange. 
I do not want my sweet ideals of this glorious self- 
sacrifice spoiled by your cynical speculation about 
them. I am sure woman had nothing to do with it. 
They were holy men God sent and inspired to give 
the world a new religion — ” 

“God knows !” he interrupted sharply, as they left 
the chapel together, “ the world was rotten enough 
to require renovation.” 

Thus they chattered and speculated for a couple of 
hours, when they re-entered the voiture, and were 
driven to St. Chappelle. Here again King betrayed 
such strange and cynical aversion to the church as to 
ungallantly declare that if Judith wished to enter it 
she should go alone. 

“ Why won’t you look at the mOvSt wonderful stained 
glass in the world ?” But without responding to her 
little banter he replied moodily, “ No, I will not.” 
She laid her hand imploringly upon his arm as she 
looked into his face with an expression of displeas- 
ure. 

“ It is so dreadfully uncanny !” she complained. 
“ Like Faust in league w’ith the devil ! It is as 
though you could not go, because of some fearful 
promise made to infernal powers, or some dreadful 
sin committed.” 

“I cannot help what it is like,” he ^replied, half 
angrily, “ I am nauseated by the sight of a church, 
the odor of ascension lilies, the sound of church 
music, or a woman’s voice in prayer.” With this 
statement he stepped back upon the walk. 

“ That allusion to Faust is very well illustrated,” 
he thought with ironical bitterness, as he watched the 
slim figure of the girl vanishing in the dim portal of 


John king, mAnAgeR. 22 i 

the chapel. “ I wonder if she will pray for me ! I hope 
not. I hate praying women ! Paul was just in his 
condemnation. They should keep silence before 
God. The old monks were right in fleeing them and 
the devil, whose instruments they chiefly make them- 
selves for the ruin of men.” The tender pleading 
face of his mother seemed to rise before him to give 
the lie to this vile black blasphemy of her sex. But 
the better impressions created in his thought by the 
memory of his mother were at once supplanted by a 
portrait of his cousin Alice’s haughty and beautiful 
face. Thrusting his hands into his pockets he began 
to pace the walk restlessly back and forth before the 
steps of the chapel, as his mind was stirred by un- 
welcome recollection of the old refrain, “ IVe have 
erred and strayed from thy ways.*' Had he strayed ? 
Very far from the first lofty ideas of life, it was true ; 
but he chose to charge the whole responsibility of his 
own wretched rebellion against God to an inexpli- 
cable destiny wrought out for him by the delicate 
hands of an idol-breaking woman. Had she been 
true, he could never have been false ; or he might 
have been what he then dreamed he should become, 
and not that which he now was. She, the human 
thing, had made the link betwixt his soul and deity ; 
no ! had she even been human in her weakness, still 
the tie would have bound hi spassion in venerating 
subordination to a higher claim ; but she had 
descended below humanity, she had utterly destroyed 
his faith in the truth of woman and the power of re- 
ligion to rule into quiet the monstrous passions of 
our natures. If she did not embody the virtues she 
assumed, who could be trusted .? who was really true ? 
Mentally, ideally, physically, she was the rarest 
embodiment of a man’s dream of a noble Christian 
woman, and she had been false ; as false as Hell !” 

At this point Judith called him from the steps ; he 


John king, manager. 

looked up nervously to observe the girl standing in 
the door of the chapel v/ith a smile upon her sweet 
lips, and a glint of the golden sunshine upon her 
hair. “ And this woman ? How far would she stand 
the test ?” So his cynical doubt ended for a time, as 
with a great throb of healthful feeling responding 
to the influence of her faith-inspiring presence, he 
advanced to conduct her to the voiture. 

“ What have you been doing in there so long he 
inquired curiously. She met his eyes very seriously. 

“I have been praying for you.” 

“ God forbid !” he exclaimed in evident disgust. 
“ I would rather that you swore at me, Judith. 
Brutality is to be preferred to hypocrisy.” He as- 
sisted her into the voiture where she sat without par- 
ticularly regarding him, looking about her with a face 
expressive of indolent pleasure, 

“ What was your prayer he inquired, after a 
moment of silence. 

“ That you might recover one day your lost faith.” 
He tried to frown and look displeased, but it was 
evident he was considerably interested. 

“ How do you know I have lost faith, Judith ?” 

“ You impress me as a man—” she looks at him a 
moment, full of uncertainty, then finished boldly, 
“ who has thrown all the strength of his heart and 
soul upon some human support — ” again she paused 
to deliberate. 

“ And what ?” he interrogated, eager to listen to 
her definition of his case. 

Found it insecure,” she concluded briefly. “ I 
have not said to you just what I wished — in a way, 
you always appeal strongly to my sympathies.” 

“ I do not require your pity,” he replied coldly ; 
thus the subject of her secret impression was aban- 
doned. 

Both being determined to make the most of the 


John king, manager. 2^3 

day despite these cloudy incidents, were soon re-en- 
gaged in less personal .and more happy themes of 
conversation. They spent the remainder of the after- 
noon in the Louvre. When they got tired of looking 
at famous frescos and paintings, they found a com- 
fortable corner in one of the wide window seats 
where they sat talking together, and watching the 
miniature painters at their work. Finally the clouds 
commenced to gather, and soon a misty rain veiled 
the outer landscape. That afternoon at the Louvre 
somehow brought them into closer companionship 
than they had ever known before ; it was like a de- 
lightful dream to them both. King had never ap- 
peared or looked more elegant and handsome than 
he did this August afternoon sitting opposite to her in 
the Louvre window in his immaculate linen and dust- 
less black cloth; the stir of passionate life within 
him expressing itself to her in the mellow modula- 
tion of his voice, the strong flash of his eye, and the 
warm flush of excitement burning upon his cheeks. 
She seemed to accept his adoration with an air of 
grace and luxury in her negligent pose against the 
dark wood, framed upon one side by the gray outer 
light, and touched into romantic beauty by the pic- 
tured stories of the dead ages, and further accentu- 
ated by the ambitions of modern life symbolized in 
the painters about them eagerly engaged at their 
work. They went home together only when the 
hour arrived to close the building. John King did 
not linger to listen to mad^me’s complaint, but bidding 
her a hasty farewell, he took both Judith’s hands in 
his own, while he stood for some moments looking at 
her long and earnestly. “You have been very sweet 
to me this one afternoon,” he said, “ I shall never, 
never forget it, “and despite Madame De Sequeria’s 
disdainful disapproval, he bent forward to leave a 
farewell kiss upon the little white spot on her fore- 


2^4 Kmc , manager. 

head where the parting of her hair left it temptingly 
exposed. 

“ We shall meet again in America soon, until then, 
good-by, sweet girl,” he said, and was gone. 


CHAPTER XX. 

It happened that a vacancy led John King to offer 
Madame De Sequeria a position in the Savelli com- 
pany during the following season. This was very 
gratifying to Judith, and perfectly delightful to 
Madame De Sequeria. By this maneuvre John King 
had, in a way, purchased the place by making madame 
his subject. If he was suspicious of her influence 
over Judith’s mind, he made himself by this action so 
important to the material interest of his diplomatic 
friend, as to render her nearly helpless in matters 
inimical to his dearest interests. Florence Winter 
had slipped quietly out of their lives. Whatever hap- 
pened between her and Savelli while in Florence, was 
never known ; but they were estranged, and there 
was talk of her engagement to a New York million- 
aire. Her name ceased to be mentioned among them 
after the first curious speculations of madame and 
Judith were exhausted. Certainly Savelli did not act 
the love-lorn swain, but rather like a person relieved 
of an unwelcome burden. Never had the genius of 
the young star so impressed the world before. He 
had reached the zenith of a rare manhood, rich in 
those qualities that win the applause and admiration 
of men. Everything moved without friction until the 
last of the season, when a very costly New York pro- 
duction was arranged between the star and his man- 


JOHN KING, manager. 


225 


a^er. Romeo and Juliet was billed for New York 
with a promise of the most magnificent costumes and 
settings ; but who should play J uliet ?” 

“ Why, King !” responded Savelli to King, who 
asked this question, “ I supposed that you would be 
the first to suggest Miss Kent.” 

“ Miss Kent ? Judith ?” inquired John King staring 
at him in surprise, “ Oh, no, Sandro ; the stakes are 
too heavy. Without saying anything disparaging of 
Miss Kent as a sweet girl, her powers as an actress 
are not always well sustained ; for instance, she has 
never done any such work this season as she did last 
year at Denver and San Francisco. I am afraid to 
trust her with Juliet in such an expensive production ; 
business is business, Sandro, you know.” 

Yes ; but I have promised Miss Kent without 
suspecting your disapproval, and 1 must not break 
my word with her,” insisted Savelli firmly. 

“ Thunder and lightning !” exclaimed John King, 
springing to his feet in great irritation, as he began 
to pace the floor. “ What sort of a position is this to 
be placed in ? I never yet knew a man of genius 
who had a particle of method, or head for business. 
Why could you not have allowed the matter to rest 
until we had talked it over together ?” Savelli also 
rose haughty and indignant ; he was not accustomed 
to rebuke, and did not take kindly to such a tone of 
command as King, in his hasty anger, now uncon- 
sciously assumed while speaking to him. 

“ King ! I cannot allow you to dictate to me in this 
manner.” 

“ Sandro, be reasonable, can’t you ?” expostulated 
King, seeing his mistake and coming around to stand 
before him with an air of concession. 

“ I should recommend the consideration of that 
course to you, sir,” responded the aroused actor with 


226 JOHN KING, manager. 

spirit, as he declined further conversation upon the 
matter, by proudly leaving the room. 

“ Well !” mused King in a most uncomfortable 
frame of mind, as he resumed his seat to smoke and 
think ; “ this promises to be a confounded unpleas- 
ant affair. It is quite plain to me that the critical 
test is to be applied when I must choose betwixt 
my heart and my fortune. Alessandro Savelli, either 
by good-natured blundering or cunning artifice has 
the winning card in his hand. Would she love 
or respect me for ruining myself to suit her sweet 
vanity, I wonder ? Pah ! no, I must keep my posi- 
tion as a man before the world. Women love to 
be ruled ; they never show their pretty wings in 
cloudy weather, but come out like butterflies to look 
at the sun. The subject had better be dropped for 
the present, for Alessandro Savelli is as obstinate as 
a mule in all matters pertaining to his notions of 
honor. Because he has promised that charming little 
witch, why, of course, he feels bound to stand by his 
word. Well, he shall never give her an opportunity 
to make herself so great as to be perfectly independ- 
ent of me, if I can possibly help it. That would 
never do ; and if favors are to be presented on silver 
salvers, my hand, not Savelli’s, must hold the tray." 

John King’s mind at this point was led to consider 
the possibility of pitting Eileen Kendall against the 
Savelli company, in case of a quarrel. She had been 
making an American tour this season with great suc- 
cess. 

“ What could be done ?” he wondered ; “ what was’ 
the measure of his influence with her ? Did a woman 
ever quite forget the first love of her life ?’’ If the 
devil first put the thought into his head, he followed 
its announcement by informing John King of the 
sudden death of J. B. Tyler, manager of Eijeen Ken- 
dall. “ Died in his office at nine o’clock this morn- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


227 


ing.” So the New York paper read which King held 
in his hand. It looked like an opportunity unex- 
pectedly presented to him in his effort to checkmate 
Savelli, if the move became necessary. The thought 
of his former relations with this woman did not deter 
him in the pursuit of his project. It was a matter of 
business. He thought of Eileen Kendall only as the 
successful actress, and he could but concede that she 
was a wonderful woman in her profession. Not a 
heart throb of compunction stirred his bosom in re- 
sponse to the old love, as he entered the telegraph 
office to communicate with her. The old life seemed 
like a dream. It was the actress alone he contem- 
plated as a fortunate speculation. He sent the follow- 
ing telegram : 

“ Eileen Kendall : Will you consent to an inter- 
view ? (Signed) John King.” 

The reply came flying back over the wires. 

‘‘John King : Tuesday at two o’clock. 

“(Signed) Eileen Kendall.” 

Tuesday was a day of agonized suspense to only 
one mind. The woman suffered as woman must to 
the end of the chapter ; but the man, who could ruth- 
lessly bring shame and reproach into her life yet keep 
himself free from the touch of either, walked noncha- 
lantly up street, rang the bell, was ushered into 

the elegant reception room of the actress’s New York 
residence, and, without the quiver of a muscle to dis- 
turb his perfect composure, found himself bowing 
and making polite speeches to his former victim. 
With a graceful yet critical attention he fixed his 
sharp glance upon the cold, commanding, statuesque 
figure of the woman before him. The dead white of 


228 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


her gown, heavily trimmed about the throat and 
sleeves with fur, served to conceal somewhat the 
sudden and ghastly pallor which overspread her 
features. For a moment she stood, pale, inwardly 
trembling and silent before him, but with an air of 
outward calm that betrayed to his inquiring gaze an 
attitude of studied grace and freezing intellectual re- 
pose. He had some secret conviction that she might 
be woman enough to make an embarrassing allusion 
to the past between them, it was now disagreeable for 
him to remember ; but her first words assured him 
that he had to deal with a hardened character, entirely 
different from the cowering and desperate girl he had 
trifled with and thrown out on the world two years 
before. 

“ What can I do for you, Mr. King ?” she inquired 
I'n an icy tone. This reception from a woman who 
had evidently grown worldly with success, seemed 
such an assurance to him that she would never require 
him or desire him to resume the old footing with her, 
that he replied without his usual diplomatic caution. 

“ I learned by the papers of yesterday that you are 
likely to be embarrassed by the death of your mana- 
ger, poor Tyler ! I knew him quite well ; an excel- 
lent fellow, and a shrewd business man. I regret his 
untimely end, as no doubt you must very greatly.” 

“ I do,” she answered briefly, sitting down, and in- 
dicating by a wave of her white, jeweled hand, a 
wish that he should be seated at her side. 

“ I do not suppose, however, you come here, Mr. 
King, to simply offer speeches of condolence.” She 
smiled. 

“ Hardly ! There is a point at issue between my- 
self and Mr. Savelli which may end in a dissolved 
partnership. In case we should quarrel hopelessly, 
would it contribute anything to your convenience and 
material welfare, Miss Kendall, if I should propose to 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


229 


place myself at your service for your management 
during the remainder of the season. He had come 
to the point with his usual clean, business despatch. 
She sat for a moment silently appearing to consider 
his proposition, but really struggling to frame a reply 
which should not betray the trembling eagerness of 
her heart, as she concealed her eyes by keeping her 
gaze fixed upon her hands, lying loosely clasped in 
her lap. When at last she looked back at him, there 
was a little straight line of critical determination 
sharply drawn together between her brows. 

It is hardly complimentary to me, Mr. King, to 
make me the accidental dependent upon some doubt- 
ful condition of your life ; when you and ^r. Savelli 
have finished your quarrel I should think it would be 
better for you to come to me then with this offer for 
my management.” At this point of the interview, she 
rose with a haughty air of an empress, thus signifying 
that it was at an end. John King was somewhat 
phased by the turn of affairs between them. This 
woman did not look unlike the soft, weeping child 
who had once implored him to “ Step upon her, crush 
her ! anything, for God’s sake ! except to leave her.” 
If he had ever had any doubts of the inconstancy of 
the feminine heart, this circumstance settled his cyni- 
cal belief in their superficial and uncertain affec- 
tions. 

Concealing the chagrin with which this speech 
filled him, he rose from her side, where he stood for a 
moment looking upon her with his strong, contem- 
plative eyes. 

“ I see,” he said, “ you will secure another manager 
during the coming week, and I am to take this de- 
cision as your final answer. You see upon such con- 
ditions as these, I cannot very well afford to quarrel 
with Mr. Savelli, even if I wish to do so.” 

Jt she really had any soft vanities lingering in her 


230 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


memory, or shrewd calculation of his importance to 
her interest, this, he concluded, would force a more 
open avowal of them. She knew him well enough to 
judge it was safe to take him at his word in these 
matters. 

“ I will take my hat, if you please,” he continued in 
his graceful, nonchalant way. “ I would like to say 
that I am pleased with your success ; indeed, it is 
a cause of great rejoicing to me, that my judgment 
of your powers as an actress two years ago have been 
so thoroughly disproved, and that the half developed 
girl has had the courage to do her work so well, that 
to-day I meet in her a proud, self-sustained and beau- 
tiful woman.” She turned first away, then toward 
him with nervous haste, as a rush of becoming color 
flooded her face, which betrayed her emotions, de- 
spite her effort to repress them. 

“ Let the past remain as it is, if you please, Mr. 
King, a closed chapter. We are as two strangers to- 
day.” She longed to hear some passionate protest 
against this decision, but instead, he signified his cool 
consent, by raising his eyebrows and bowing his 
head. The servant now opened the door, carrying 
.his hat and his overcoat. 

“ Good morning,” was his abrupt farewell, and the 
door closed between them. No sooner was the actress 
alone than the emotional side of her nature burst 
through her assumed coldness. She paced the floor 
like a caged tigress, weeping and wringing her hands. 

“ He is so masterful, and cold ! so cruel to me ! he 
always was so ! I should hate him ! I would rule or 
ruin him ! I thought I might ; for this I have studied 
and worked and schemed, day and night ; for this I 
have kept my heart fed upon the husks of other men’s 
flattery and passions, that in the end I might win him 
by first winning the world. I thought he would come 
to me soft and repentant ; instead^ he is the saniQ 


.JOHN KING, MAN;AGER. 23 1 

cruel, masterful man that he ever was ; and I am still 
a woman, despised for my weakness.” 

At this point the bell rang and a servant entered to 
present a card. Eileen stretched forth her hand to 
receive it, at the same time shading her wet eyes with 
her handkerchief. She read upon the satin finished 
slip of paper the name of her last fancy, the Baron 
Van Rubenstein, who had followed her to this coun- 
try. 

“ Admit him,” and the servant retired to usher in 
her guest. “ Fool that I am ! to prefer a home in 
New York to a palace in Berlin.” 

It happened as John King anticipated, neither man 
being willing to yield the point of contest, they quar- 
rel and separate. John King is not accustomed to 
submit his will and judgment to another’s vindication, 
and he has more than an ordinary motive in not al- 
lowing Savelli to force him into a secondary position 
in the present issue between them. Savelli has as- 
sumed the entire control of the affairs of the com- 
pany. King coolly calculates the ruin of the whole 
project, as he has but little confidence in the young 
actor’s financial ability. In the end, Judith will be 
humiliated by failure, and in the meantime he can 
afford to wait. At the close of affairsBetween Savelli 
and himself, he sends up his card requesting an inter- 
view with Judith and Madame De Sequeria, which is 
granted, of course. Accordingly about half past 
eleven. King presented himself before them with an 
open telegram in his hand. He is elegantly dressed 
as usual, and appears unusually cool and self-pos- 
sessed. Madame D , who is fond of King, and in 

his employ, receives him graciously, calling to Judith, 
who enters the room from an adjoining apartment. 
She seems to float before his enraptured gaze like a 
dream of beauty ; never more tempting than now, 
when he feels that for a time they must be separated. 


232 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


He turns with that slow dignity, that is both impress- 
ive and becoming, to receive her morning salutation, 
given with both hands springing forth impulsively to 
meet the steady, warm clasp of his fingers. The rus- 
tle of her silks, the delicate flutter of ribbons, the 
sweet odor of heliotrope, the smiling, gracious youth 
of the tender woman ; how could he coolly and delib- 
erately tear himself away from the daily, almost 
hourly contemplation of her picture, which seemed to 
have been wrought in him out of the tenderest fibres 
of his heart. His determined will was scarcely equal 
to the self-imposed task of bidding her a calm “ good- 
by.” He therefore chose to be abrupt. 

“ I am in a hurry this morning, ladies,” he com- 
menced, in a voice slightly constrained in an effort 
to speak casually, “ but I am unhappy to inform you 
that a disagreement has arisen between myself and 
Mr. Savelli resulting in our separation. I hold in my 
hand a telegram requesting me to assume the man- 
agement of Eileen Kendall.” Both ladies betrayed 
the greatest consternation, and Judith felt all the 
strength desert her so suddenly she was obliged to 
sit down in order to shield her weakness from the 
critical eyes of the man resting upon her. She man- 
aged to say very quietly : 

“ I am so sorry, Mr. King 1 I am very much sur- 
prised.” While King continued steadily, looking 
rather at her than at Madame De Sequeria : 

“ To me, of course, it is a matter of the deepest re- 
gret that I feel obliged to sever my connection with 
so many interesting people ; but as I hope to marry 
some day, it behooves me to consider the interest of 
that unknown fair lady, and I cannot, warmly as I 
admire Miss Kent as a woman, allow vSavelli more 
than his rights regarding her position as an actress. 
Whether my judgment would or not have permitted 
tne to offer Juliet to the fairest and sweetest Juliet 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


233 


on the continent, is not wholly the question ; I could 
not permit Mr, Savelli to assume so much more of 
the business than belonged to him by settling this 
affair with her without even consulting me about 
it.” 

At this point, madame began to shed “ prop ” 
tears. ** It is a shame !” she'averred, that two such 
sensible men as you and Savelli are, King, should fall 
to quarreling about that foolish chit of a girl, 
Judith !” 

“ It is unfortunate, certainly,” remarked King, “ that 
we cannot agree upon a point of business, and that 
my decision is likely to give some offence to a lady 
whose friendship is so important to my happiness.” 
Feeling that he could not longer endure the look in 
the lovely eyes studying his face, so full of all that 
which he guessed lay burning and trembling to ex- 
press itself at the bottom of her impressive and gen- 
erous heart. King rose immediately to bid the ladies 
farewell. “If I can do anything at any time in the 
future for either of you, your place with me, you 
know, is assured. I must repeat that I am exceed- 
ingly sorry to go away.” As he felt that he was los- 
ing control of his voice, he put out a hand to each of 
them. He did not fail to calculate the true pain of 
his departure to them both by the temperature of the 
pretty hands resting in his. One was warm, but pas. 
sive, while the other clutched his a little despe- 
rately and was cold as ice. Not one moment longer 
did he dare to linger. “ Goodby,” he said, in a short, 
crisp tone as he left the room. No sooner had he 
done so, than Judith flung herself forward upon the 
couch, burying her face among the cushions. 

“Go away and leave me alone, Olivia,” she en- 
treated Madame De Sequeria so piteously, that she 
thought it was best to do as she was requested. 


234 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


CHAPTER XXL 

King proved strangely intractable and taciturn 
toward his star’s advances. This was inexplicable to 
Eileen, until the Baron Van Rubenstein called one 
afternoon and made it a point to inform her of King’s 
wild and hopeless passion for Judith Kent. 

“ And she is playing here in New York ?” Eileen 
asks. 

“ Yes, at the Theatre. I believe that there is 

a matinee this afternoon,” is the Baron’s response. 

“ This afternoon ?” the woman ponders a moment 
and says finally, “ I wish to go.” 

To this man her wish was law. Her carriage was 
ordered while she went to dress. 

Seated in the shadow of the box, unobserved by the 
audience, she waited impatiently for Judith’s en- 
trance, drawing a quick sharp breath as she beheld 
the girl. 

“ Beautiful ! beautiful !” she remarked to her com- 
panion ; and good ; I can hear in her voice.” 

At that moment King entered the opposite box ; 
Eileen Kendall’s gaze wandered from Judith to King, 
and from King back again to Judith. A smile of sat- 
isfaction crossed her lips, as she shrewdly calculated : 
“ He is in love, but the girl is indifferent.” 

She left the theatre early,' not caring to be scrutin- 
ized by the vast audience. Upon her arrival home 
King was there before her. 

As they seated themselves at the dinner table, she 
thought how handsome and distinguished John King 
looked, and that slightly melancholy air really 
became him. 

The elegantly dressed and beautiful woman before 
him waited upon him with studied grace and an 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


235 


expression of deliberation making itself apparent in 
the languid and inquiring glances frequently directed 
toward her guest. 

When two little lines between John King’s eyes had 
grown less deep, she broached the subject that was 
uppermost in her mind. 

“ Mr. King, I hear thdt you are in love. New York 
has so many pretty scandals afloat just now, I went this 
afternoon to the theatre to look over the ground of 
defeat. I took the liberty to watch you both criti- 
cally. It is no use. King, she is indifferent ; your 
fate is sealed there. Now I mean a fortune to you, 
do I not ?” 

Undoubtedly,” is the response. 

“And,” very quietly, “Judith Kent means noth- 
ing. 

John King arose in a fury of wrath. “You shall 
not mention her name ; a woman like you !” 

His anger acted like a torch to her own ; she also 
was upon her feet in an instant. 

“ And who made women like me but men like you, 
John King ? you shall repent those words.” 

Moodily King followed Eileen Kendall and her maid 
to the carriage. He felt reckless, even, as he realized, 
too late, that he had allowed his own personal feel- 
ings to gain the ascendancy. 

It was too early to go the theatre ; he turned 
miserably up the avenue. 

“ Good Heavens ! the ingratitude of a woman. 
Hadn’t Kendall all one could desire ? Admiration, 
money, fame even had crowned her. Perhaps it had 
been a mistake to renew the old friendship ; after all it 
was only a business arrangement, yet people believed 
it otherwise. Well, the majority of the world were 
fools ; sulkily he strolled on thinking how broken his 
life looked to him. If he failed in winning Judith 
Kent— faile4 — " bis teeth clenched savagely together 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


236^ 

as he proceeded on his way. “ No, he would not fail 1 
by fair means or — Heavens ! what was he coming to ? 
perhaps his brain was not quite clear,” he laughed 
derisively, and turning retraced his steps. 

It was the next morning, while Eileen Kendall was 
sitting quietly meditating before the fire, that a tele- 
gram was placed in her hand. It was a cipher mes- 
sage from a Wall Street man, advising her to sell cer- 
tain stock without delay. Going hastily to her desk 
she seized a telegraph blank and wrote a message 
to her broker ; hastily snatching another blank she 
wrote as follows : John King — and then she hesita- 
ted. It happened that she had advised King to in- 
vest in this same stock and had delegated herself to 
watch the market for him ; now came her opportun- 
ity for revenge ; every penny which King possessed, 
at her suggestion had been invested. It was not like 
King to trust his business to any one, but she had 
proven herself an unusually sharp speculator, and 
King was too much abstracted by the affairs of his 
heart to use his usual caution in watching the rise 
and fall of his investments. Without a regret Eileen 
Kendall quietly rang the bell, sending but om message, 
which was answered within forty-five minutes. She 
takes up the slip upom which she has written “John 
King,” twists it with a cruel smile of scorn, tosses it 
into the fire and watches it burn to ashes. She had 
deliberately ruined him. 

The sharp contest between himself and Eileen 
Kendall, recalled King’s mind somewhat to the more 
practical concerns of his life. His suspicions being 
aroused, he wisely reflected that it was not fully wise 
to trust his money to a woman so deeply interested 
in the management of his affairs and unscrupulous as 
he now believed Eileen Kendall to have become. He 
hastened to the brokers to repair the mischief only 
to learn of his financial ruin He came in upon the 


JOM KING, manager. 


237 


woman who had played him so false, white with 
anger. Under no circumstances, however, was he a 
man to lose command of his dignity. 

“ I learn, madame, that when you hastened to save 
yourself last Tuesday, you forgot your business honor, 
so far as to allow that part of the stock held in trust 
for me, to decline on your hands. I could not, of 
course, calculate on such base action as would call 
for hard names between two men. I come to tell 
you that I will so far gratify your desire for disaster 
in my life, as to immediately sever my connection 
with you and your affairs.” As it often happens with 
a person who has stooped to an act of revenge, Eileen 
Kendall was for a moment overcome by King’s bold 
and haughty denunciation ; but recovering herself at 
the close of this speech, she arose with insolent grace, 
and laid her hand upon his shoulder as he was about 
to leave the room. 

“You had fair warning last Tuesday, when you so 
far forgot yourself as to insult me at my own table.” 

“ It was no insult,” returned King hotly. “ As 
your action now bears out the truth of my insinua- 
tions, you are not a woman who should be permitted 
to even mention the name of a girl like Judith Kent.” 

“ And are you a man, a betrayer of such a girl, 
worthy of the love of one of them ?” she sneered at 
him, as she drew up her majestic figure trembling 
with wrath, her face whitening to her lips. “If you 
have any fault to find with my life and character you 
and your philosophy have shaped both. You blasted 
my happiness and flung me out unprotected among a 
cold and merciless world of men.” 

“ Not penniless ! not penniless !” he said, as he 
opened and closed the door between them. 


238 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

For three days following these scenes, John King 
laid in bed, his brain on fire with a raging fever ; but 
his splendid vitality conquered so far, that at the end 
of this time he was able to get up and go out again. 

As he walked alone beneath the stars, amidst the 
hurrying crowd, he reflected that he had indeed been 
cruel to one woman ; so cruel ! and she had perhaps 
justly revenged herself. He did not think bitter 
thoughts concerning her ; he thoroughly despised her 
character, and wondered how he could ever have been 
sufficiently interested to have made her even his mis- 
tress. Ah ! if he could escape the convictions, which 
appeared to trouble other men so little, that he had 
not led a correct life. The more he thought, the 
darker the prospect loomed before him, and the more 
desperate his resolution became to win Judith Kent, 
or to possess her. At length, like a man driven to 
frenzy, he rushed into her presence to put the case to 
a final test. His unhappy situation was such as to 
make him a marked man. There were various scan- 
dals and theories afloat which connected his name 
unpleasantly with Eileen Kendall. Some of these 
stories he took the pains to correct. In the meantime 
he was embittered by the circumstance of his deser- 
tion by his old friends. Not one word of sympathy or 
of condolence reached him in the dark hours of his life. 
Consequently when Judith opened the door upon her 
unexpected visitor, she was greatly shocked by his 
pale and haggard appearance. Although she was 
strangely pleased to see him, she was yet annoyed 
that he should presume to call upon her in so familiar 
a manner, when New York was raking up the old 


John king, manager. ^39 

fetory regarding his former connection with a notor- 
ious actress. ^ 

“ Mr. King, I will see you in the public parlor,” she 
hastened to say, as she stepped into the hall outside, 
and they descended the stairs together. For the first 
time in his life he seemed to have lost his manner of 
dignity and repose. He talked so wildly for the next 
ten minutes that, overcome by the sight of him in such 
a state of mind, she rose hurriedly from her chair, say- 
ing somewhat sternly as she did so : ‘‘ Mr. King, I 

am so sorry for you, but I cannot listen to you this 
morning ; you are either insane or you have been 
drinking.” With which statement she at once left 
the room. Her actions served to sober him, so far as 
to restore his old outward bearing of dignity and 
render more acute his managing, planning faculty. 
He stepped into the station to take a train for his 
country residence at New Rochelle. Ere he em- 
barked, however, he went into the telegraph office, 
and dictated the following message to Judith. 

“ Have met with an accident, and am being taken 
to New Rochelle. Come to me, and come alone. I 
would like to see you before I die.” 

“ It is damnable work !” he concluded, “ but I will 
have this woman either by fair means or by foul.” 

When he at length arrived at New Rochelle, he set 
out on foot to his residence, first posting a letter to 
Savelli which he had written on the train. 

A walk of a mile brought him to his country home, 
called Maple Terraces, where many times he had en- 
tertained the girl he was now planning to betray. 
Judith had always been fond of this little residence 
set among the trees, gray gabled and green terraced. 
She was ever ready, when in New York, to go out to 
Maple Terraces for a quiet day’s frolic with the Com- 
pany. Once she had said to him in her reckless way, 


540 JottM KING, Manager. 

“ If you die before me, Mr. King, will me Maple 
Terraces, it would make such a nice tea-caddy, when 
I get old, and cappy and garrulous,” and he had re- 
plied : 

“ Before that time, if you should choose to honor 
me by its acceptance.” To-day he vowed between 
his clenched teeth it should be as he desired. He 
stopped before the rustic entrance, looking in upon 
this cool and delightful retreat from the busy world, 
close from the street by a stone wall over which ran 
the twisted vine of a wisteria. He opened the gate, 
hurrying up the smooth, graveled walk, under the 
shadow of the flowering maples, to his own door. He 
was admitted by his servant into the house. The 
place was fitted according to King’s exquisite taste 
throughout ; a little palace, without a woman to make 
it a home. Never had he felt more lonely than on 
this day when he seated himself by the big stone 
fire-place and sat there a crushed figure before the 
smouldering fire. A voice spoke so suddenly behind 
him, he startled nervously even to his feet, but it was 
only the serving woman asking him if he would have 
dinner at the usual hour. “ No, thank you, Hannah ! 
you may set upon this table a plate of crackers, a 
bottle of wine, and a box of cigars. He remained 
standing with his hands clasped behind his back, 
until the maid returned with the desired articles, 
borne upon a silver tray which she set upon a mahog- 
any table that occupied the centre of the room. 

“ Is that all, sir ?” she inquired. 

“ It is all — no wait a moment ; let me think. Here 
are seventy-five dollars, it is your last quarter’s pay- 
ment, you have been a good girl, but I have met with 
misfortune which necessitates a rearrangement of my 
affairs.” 

“ My God, sir ! but I am sorry if ill has happened to 


Ji^HN KiNG, IViANAGfift. 24! 

you ; is there anything I could do ? I would like to 
stay in your service." 

He pressed his hands wearily against his brow. 
“You can do me an important service, Hannah ; a 
young lady will come here this afternoon about five 
o’clock ; if she comes alone admit her to this room ; if 
she asks if I am ill, tell her that I am very sick indeed, 
but on your life and my happiness, do not answer 
another question or betray me ; I simply wish to talk 
to her alone and uninterrupted. When she has en- 
tered the room, lock the door and leave the house un- 
til half past eight o’clock. You know that you can 
trust me to do no wrong.’’ 

“ Indeed I will ! and I shall not be afraid,’’ con- 
sented Hannah, flattered by his insinuating confidence. 
Having done this, John King delivered the keys of 
the room into the hands of the waiting woman, re- 
marking as he did so, “ I think she will come alone." 
With this statement he turned his back toward her, 
walking to the table from which he took a cigar but 
did not touch the wine. The room was a long nar- 
row, low ceiled apartment like the hall in some old 
castle. It faced the garden upon one side, and one 
end of the opposite wall was closed by a door and an 
alcove. It was furnished with a few paintings in 
Vandyke tints of exquisite richness and beauty. A 
cabinet of photographs occupied one corner, among 
which Judith Kent sat pre-eminent upon a little ivory 
easel of a most elegant fashion, being inlaid with 
mosaics and studded across the top bar with pearls. 
Wide, easy chairs, and rich Persian rugs were grace- 
fully disposed along the centre of the polished floor ; 
between the curtains of lace which hung before the 
long low windows were set rare jardinieres of potted 
plants and palms. The disposition of them was so 
umbrageous as to interfere with the light, affording 
an appearance of delightful coolness in the hot sum- 


24^ 


JOHN KING, MANAGE^. 


mer days. All the remainder of the afternoon John 
King walked and smoked and, although his brain 
seemed crying for stimulants and he could not eat, 
yet he did not drink. His face was so thin and haggard 
with suffering that it seemed drained of all color and 
pulled into great hollows under his fine eyes ; eyes 
that burned and glistened like great lamps of the 
soul they imprisoned. They were the eyes of a man 
driven to desperation, who knows he has thrown the 
rein to the devil to carry him through his purpose, 
and awaits the issue of his schemes, with that impa- 
tience of uncertainty that keeps every restless thought 
as taut as a sail in a tempest, and every nerve of his 
body racked with painful emotion. 

He did not allow himself one moment of rest until 
he heard the door close on the entrance below, and 
the high, sweet treble of Judith’s voice inquiring the 
way. Into the little alcove connected with this room 
he retired, holding the curtains together with a hand 
that shook with a tremulous joy agitating his whole 
body. He heard Judith enter the room, and all the 
torture of despair vanished with that sound. The 
place grew suddenly redolent with a delicate aroma 
of some land enchanted ; the land of a man’s passion- 
ate dream of life with the woman he loves. 

He flung back the curtains, standing within the 
aperture before the eyes of the deceived and aston- 
ished girl, making a motion at the same time to the 
woman behind her, who softly slipped out of the 
door closing and locking it as she did so. Hearing 
the sound of the kej turned in the lock, Judith, with 
a sudden cry of terror, turned and flung herself 
against the door, wrenching with all her delicate 
strength at the fastenings, and calling frantically to 
the woman outside that she had been deceived, and 
demanding, in the name of all womanly virtue and 
pity, her liberation. 


John king, manager. 243 

John King came a short way into the room. “Ju- 
dith,” he commenced with enforced calmness. At the 
sound of his voice she turned upon him, armed with 
all the reserve courage of her nature, prepared for the 
worst that could happen to her. 

“ What does this mean, John King ?” she demanded 
in contemptuous anger, rebellion written upon every 
feature, although her trembling form was braced for 
support against the door. 

“ Do not look so like a bird caught in the net of the 
fowler. Miss Kent ; I am simply compelling your at- 
tention. I wished to speak with you this morning, 
you know, but you would not listen to me ; you made 
conditions for me then ; God knows they were mad- 
dening, Judith. Now I have reversed the game, but 
I intend to be more merciful to you.” 

She looked at him for a moment in angry silence 
as he stood before her with his arms folded across his 
bosom, his heavy head dropped forward until his firm, 
square chin rested upon his immaculate shirt front, 
his lips pressed together into hardness of determina- 
tion beneath the dark shade of his moustache that was 
curled, waxed and perfumed ; his eyes, always com- 
pellant, cynical or sad, rolled up to hers with an ex- 
pression of leonine victory, and aflame with a passion 
that consumed every holier, nobler instinct of his 
manhood. Yet there was something in this fallen 
nature not wholly ba.se, that pulled with tempting 
force at the heart-strings of the frightened and angry 
girl. In a radiance that burned like a subdued light 
shed over his stern face, a silent force spoke for the 
man to her against reason, saying, you can make me 
what you will by the power of my great love for you. 
She spurned the thought as one unworthy her consid- 
eration. She was compelled to recognize the fact 
that in considering himself he was merciless to her ; 


244 


J5HN KING, MANAGEil; 


being a man without honor, she made the best of hef 
condition by seeking to temporize with him, 

“ How could you ? how dared you do such a thing, 
John King ? Are you without heart as well as prin- 
ciple ? Have you no conception of the enormity of 
this thing ? Allow me to go away at once and I will see 
you under proper circumstances at some other place, 
where I will listen patiently to all you wish to say to 
me.” 

Tears came into her eyes, whose pathetic appeal 
was so beautiful it only served to increase his mad- 
ness and thus rendered more invincible his purpose 
concerning her. All the storm of feeling for her 
which he had been holding in check behind his hard- 
set lips and tightly folded arms burst forth in a tor- 
rent of words and played over the quivering white- 
ness of his thin, expressive features, like the sudden 
glare of lightning trembling through a cloud, 

“Judith! Judith! Oh, Judith, my dear !” He came 
very near to her, and upon looking at him she shrank 
closer, against the door in terror. Although he ap- 
peared not to notice her trouble, yet he did not at- 
tempt to touch her. Struck by a sudden chill of the 
rising storm, he shook so that his teeth chattered and 
every muscle and fibre of his strong body yielded to 
the sharp and sudden strain of the inner tempest. 

“Judith! Judith! my dear, I love you! Never 
but twice in my life have I ever loved any of your 
sex but my mother. The first was a beautiful 
woman to look upon, but she was as false as the devil 
him, self. Never but once have I betrayed a woman’s 
confidence, although the world has so many dark 
whispers to the contrary circulating against me, and 
if I betrayed her, Judith, she has richly revenged 
herself; I do not complain that it was not just. I will 
not tell you that because of my love for you I have 
thrown every other consideration of life to the wind, 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


245 


and stand before you to-day at thirty-two, exhausted 
of every ambition, empty of every other desire, after 
having seen and tried the world and found it empty ; I 
come to you, the sweetest, purest woman I have ever 
known, praying on my knees as I would pray to my 
God or one of his angels only. Judith ! Judith ! dear 
little woman ! fill my empty arms, my empty heart, 
and henceforth I swear I will commence to build my- 
self anew in answer to every desire of your sweet 
womanhood. You are the one pure planet of my 
heart that has not set." 

Something in the force of this appeal overcame for a 
moment her calm consideration of the circumstances 
which surrounded them. As he leaned down to her, 
trembling with an eagerness to embrace her, yet 
with manly delicacy restraining himself, she could 
hear the wild beating of his blood,- could feel the 
warm fragrance of his breath upon her cheek ; her 
generous, womanly heart stirring within her grew 
faint with the conflict. 

“I would like to believe you," she responded, with ' 
an effort at calmness, “ but having done what you 
have done, can you expect me to have any faith in a 
man so without honor ?" 

“ Pardon me, dear little lady !" he said, without 
answering the question, as he stepped back to wheel 
a chair toward her, “ I have even forgotten to be 
civil. Sit down and think quietly for ten minutes if 
I am wholly to blame in this matter. I will not go 
away, but I will not interrupt you ; only remember, 
that for everything with which you have damned me, 

I have only one cause to plead — I love you, and I would 
not give a rap for life without you. I believe that I 
have enough left in me at thirty-two to reward you 
for giving me your heart." He turned his back upon 
her with this statement and stood looking out of the 
window, restlessly consulting from minute to min- 


246 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


ute the gold watch that he held beneath his eye in 
the palm of his hand. 

Judith felt herself involved in a net of inexplicable 
circumstances. Between Alessandro and John King 
her heart had vibrated for two years like a pendulum 
of a clock. There was something in King that always 
ruled and dominated her despite herself, but Alessan- 
dro ever inspired her with unshaken faith and confi- 
dence in his manly virtue. One man had the power 
to touch the sensous side of life, which set in tumult 
all the reckless passions of her nature, the other, 
seeming to transcend his humanity, led her into the 
land of sublime ideals. Both men she felt, in a way, 
to be stronger than herself, with a shaping power to 
make her destiny. Of the thunderous depths and 
lightning flashes of King’s nature she was ever 
afraid ; but there was in Alessandro an unclouded 
benignity which shone on like the sun, beyond and 
above her particular touch, yet ever warming and 
inspiring to her life. One man she commenced to 
realize for the first time she had loved with a love 
that had never brought any response. It had been 
well understood in theatrical circles, that Alessandro 
Savelli would marry Florence Winter ; why, God 
only knew ! unless it was that he chose such a 
woman from the very largeness of a nature that 
sought to protect the weakest thing that had ever 
clung to it. How different the action of John King 
with Eileen Kendall. New York was alive with the 
story to which he had often referred recently with 
some sort of excuse for himself. How insecure was 
this man’s honor, how contemptible his present action 
she did not fully know, but the fact that he had 
enticed her to spend a few hours with him alone and 
unprotected was sufficient evidence that where his 
desires were considered he was always weak in prin- 
ciple. It did »ot occur to her at this moment he 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


247 


could be so base and cruel as to really compromise 
her. She supposed this meeting was a secret between 
them, and that if anything should leak out regarding 
the interview, he would be in haste to defend her. 
At first, it is true, she had been appalled, but as she 
marked with what respect he treated her, she com- 
menced to regain her confidence in him, and to calcu- 
late the pace against him in her own defense. She 
concluded that she could not trust him, and that in 
the end he would go hell ward despite a woman’s love 
or effort to check his course. The very vehemence 
of his emotions argued ill with her for their continu- 
ance. She was too soft and yielding ; he was like a 
volcano, clothed in snow ; one could never calculate, 
the moment of the flood and the outburst ; she would 
not be shielded and protected, she would be pushed 
and dominated ; she would be burned to a skeleton by 
that force of ardor, which inspired and moved him on 
to the accomplishment of all his purposes, and then 
she would be cast out of his inner life, and floated 
away in the cold and mighty drift of his indifference. 
She was strongly attracted to him, but she did not trust 
him, and so when the time was up she had decided 
the case against him. As he turned his back to her, 
with his strong, positive face and dark figure sharply 
silhouetted against the light of the sunlit window, 
there rose in her consciousness the least impulse of 
pride, in consideration of so brave a conquest, instantly 
condemned and atoned for by the gentle speech with 
which she sought to forget the injury he had done 
her, and to soften the pain of his cruel disappoint- 
ment. 

“ Mr. King, I should find it very hard to forgive you 
for having decoyed me into this interview so danger- 
ous to my appearance of virtue, only I do believe that 
you have conferred upon me the honor of — ” she 
hesitated to name that love which seemed to her like 


248 JOHN KING, MANAGER. , , , 

a forced plant in the hotbed of the man’s p^asisionate 
nature. 

“Judith, may I come and sit on the arm of the 
chair, a little nearer to you, my dear, while I talk ?” 
He laid his arm across the back of the chair as he 
spoke, looking down upon her with eyes whose im- 
ploring passion spoke volumes for the restraint of his 
will. 

“ No ! No ! Mr. King,” she interrupted hastily, “I 
want to say to you at once and forever, )^ou can be 
nothing to me, unless you chose to accept my friend- 
ship for what it may be worth to you. There is no 
excuse for your present conduct ; it is in every way 
mean and dishonorable, and destroys at once all re- 
spect I might feel for your attentions.” 

“Judith, I am struggling to win you ; do not com- 
pel me to act as a master of your fate, where I seek 
only to petition as a slave.” 

“ Will you allow me to return to the city, and think 
about this matter for a few days. You can hope for 
nothing favorable from me because of this involun- 
tary detention.” She spoke haughtily. He stepped 
back a pace or two looking down upon her with an 
expression of cruel triumph. 

“ You must stay here until madame returns, as she 
has the key in her pocket. I knew too well the soft- 
ness of my heart for you, when I allowed her to make 
me a voluntary prisoner.” 

“ What madness !” she burst forth, but he went on 
without noticing the remark : 

“ Madame will not return until eight o’clock this 
evening, Judith, if you wish to leave me then, I shall 
not longer seek to detain you, but by that time, I shall 
have conquered your repugnance to me, that little re- 
pugnance born of a bad prejudice, which has always 
operated against the tender claim of your heart pull- 
ing you my way.” 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


249 


As the fearful significance of his words became 
apparent to her, she sprang from the chair, and stood 
with her hands clasped against her beating heart, her 
face blanched white with desperation, her eyes fixed 
upon him with that piteous accusing stare that Anne 
Boleyn must have bestowed upon her executioner. 

“You call that love !” she gasped, “to deliberately 
plan to ruin me, and to drag my reproachless char- 
acter in the dust ?” 

“ I call it love, Judith, because the desire to possess 
you is all my life and a part of your’s already. I 
have read some things in your face ere this, that be- 
lies your lips, whenever you deny my claim upon 
your feelings. I call it wisdom when a general plans 
a campaign to make his calculations for victory, not 
for defeat, and I believe all is generally conceded to 
be fair, both in love and war. That you may under- 
stand how determined I am to win you, I will tell you 
that I have deliberately planned to compromise you, 
so that your only chance of escape from calumny is to 
become my wife. If I have played the villain for 
once in my life, it was for no more unworthy purpose 
than to compel a haughty and beautiful girl to ac- 
knowledge I am far from being the worst man in the 
world in her estimation, and that she could love ine.” 

Several times he had essayed to approach her 
nearer as he made this deliberate statement, but she 
had put up her hands in an action of such piteous 
self-defence, that he continued to maintain his cold 
and masterful attitude toward her. 

“ My God ! what is love ?” she cried in helpless 
agony of mind, as she shrank back in the chair cover- 
ing her face with her hands. 

“ Love is ^ pretty English word, my dear, that sig- 
nifies all that makes life worth living.” She did not 
raise her head, and he could see by the heaving of 


250 JOHN KING, MANAGER. 

her bosom, her agitation was about to express itself 
in tears. 

“ Love is the property of Heaven.” He continued 
more earnestly, “ Man found a ladder one day high 
enough to reach the stars, and so borrowed a little of 
the light which illumines a universe to brighten his 
own dreary existence. My darling, look at me : Do 
not I implore you, make the battle I have won, so 
bitter in surrender.” He flung himself upon his 
knees, dragging her hands away from her wet face. 
But she wrenched herself away from him, her eyes 
flashing scorn through her tears. “ You so dare to 
profane that which is holy, which should shine like a 
star to be reached by climbing God ward, but which 
in your heart burns like a tormenting fire, and makes 
appeal to the lower half of nature.” In her indigna- 
tion she rose once more, retreating to the other side 
of the room, where she remained standing near the 
head of a couch. He followed her persistently, when 
she drew her hat pin, the only instrument she could 
command with which to defend herself from the look 
of fixed intention with which he regarded her. 

If you will use brutality, John King, to follow fine 
speeches,” she continued in withering scorn, “ I will 
match it so far as I can with a hat pin. Do not dare 
to touch me.” 

The color of courage flashed suddenly back into 
her face, her cheeks burned, her eyes flashed with 
wrath ; never had she in her life before an occasion 
for such just anger. Before she could judge how 
it was done, he had seized her upraised arm, 
wrenched the pin from her fingers, and thrown it 
across the floor. 

“Did you think, Judith, after having once mur- 
dered me with your sweet eyes you could kill me 
over again with so humble an instrument as a bod- 
kin .? Forgiye niC; Judith dear ! I do not wish to ap- 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


251 


pear brutal where every thought and emotion toward 
you constrain me to act otherwise. But I think you 
would respect me even less if I allowed you to con- 
quer me at this desperate issue between us, much less 
than you would if I convinced you, as I shall, little 
woman, that I am still John King, and your man- 
ager.” He continued to hold her wrist imprisoned, 
while looking steadily into her face, which betrayed 
to his searching inquiry a variety of rapidly coming- 
ling emotions, but never that look of real aversion he 
knew that a woman less softly inclined to him than 
Judith was, must have experienced. 

“ What condition can I make with a man who is 
not to be trusted, except what he deserves — to de- 
spise him.” 

“ How gladly you would despise me, Judith, if you 
could.” He smiled back at her. “ You would con- 
sider it virtuous, honest, just, to do so. But you can- 
not. Shall I tell you why ? Shall I act as an inter- 
preter to all that is sweet and willing within you, 
which tells you how warm a place I can give you 
against the world’s frowns and chills ; that I wiil be 
your soldier and shield in the battle of life, that I can 
go to the fight with fresh courage, if 1 have anything 
worth battling for. But I cannot, Judith, I cannot 
fight alone.” 

“ You have so far taken advantage of my confidence 
in the beginning as to drag me down, and now you 
make appeal to emotions that causes me to blush for 
the frailty of my body. I do not believe this is love, 
it is something I hesitate to name, it is the strong 
undertow in the current, that has made the wreck 
and disaster of human life. Be merciful to me and 
let me go.” 

Still pleading with her he raised one of her thin 
white hands, pressing it warmly between his own. 
Suddenly he sat down upon the couch, flinging his 


252 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


arms about her waist and shoulders as he drew her 
down upon his knees almost crushing her against 
himself. His embrace, so bearish in its strength and 
intense in its action, was like the sudden sharp stroke 
of a bow upon a weak string. It left her in suspense 
and broken in his arms. Yet there was no beating in 
the slender, round body of the girl, to answer the 
wild throbbing of his own strong man’s heart. As he 
looked upon his gentle victim lying with her head 
thrown back against his shoulder, the beauty of the 
helpless woman, the ecstasy of every even breath 
which brought the soft line of her unprotected bosom 
against his own destroyed in him the last vestige of 
remorse by driving him to the ecstasy of complete in- 
toxication. 

“Judith, speak to me,’’ he implored, “one word — 
yield a little and yielding will become easy.” 

“ I have to choose between the higher and the 
lower life,” she replied in a breathless whisper, as she 
turned her face, until the bright waves of her hair 
brushed his cheek. Although he could not see be- 
neath the white seal of her closed eyelids, what emo- 
tions were stirring in her woman’s breast, yet he be- 
gan to realize that if she fully despised him she would 
not remain thus passive. The truth began to dawn 
upon him that she was shocked but not indifferent, 
and from this point his mind took rapid account of 
the impressions produced upon him by her splendid 
power as an actress, to represent those emotions 
which he now so ardently desired the present mo- 
ment should realize for them both. The whole 
power of feeling revived in him, as he laid his heavy 
head upon her bosom. 

“Judith, my love ! your lips are silent,” he said, 
‘‘ but I will listen for the confession of your heart.” 
The sound of his rich, deep voice speaking against 
her thus, the passionate breath in his bosom that fol- 


John king, manager. 


553 

lowed this speech, the eager searching of the lips 
which found her own and clung to them with repeated 
caresses and entreaty, the delicate odor of the waxed 
moustache brushing her nostrils, the mad complaint 
of his heart, and the strong strain of his arms, caused 
her to awaken to the significance of his appeal, 
trembling with terror that was not unmixed with a 
strange delight in this extravagant expression of his 
emotion. 

“ Judith, Judith, dear little woman ” 

“ Let me go !” she implored. 

“ I cannot let you go, you must forgive me and pity 
me, even now when I seem to be so cruel to you. 
Say just once that you love me, that you will be my 
wife.” 

“ Release me, I pray you,” she pleaded with him. 
“ You have murdered virtue in me by a power which 
you so mercilessly exercise.” 

“ You love me ?” he still persisted. “ You must 
confess it.” His eyes sought her face burning with 
the light of insanity, his lips, as sweet as a flower, 
were repeatedly pressed against her cheek, her hair, 
her brow, in an almost piteous entreaty for this single 
confession. She tried to push him away with her 
cold hands, she looked upon him sternly and reprov- 
ingly as she replied : 

“It is useless! I have learned to judge men by 
their deeds rather than by their speech, by my knowl- 
edge of them rather than my impression, and I can- 
not ” 

“ Judith, Judith, I am very unhappy ! I am ruined ! 
I am undone 1 except for my hope with you ” 

“ I cannot !” she went on, with dry lips and heaving 
bosom, “ I cannot say I love you when I do not even 
respect you.” 

This falsehood cost her her composure. She fell 
into a fit of frantic weeping, as she made the declara- 


JOHN KING, MANAGED. 


tion. He sat up suddenly with a cold chill running 
through every fibre of his frame, and freezing his 
wan face into a white stillness of sudden pain. 

“Are you telling me the truth ?” he inquired, as he 
drew away from her, his voice low and husky. She 
threw herself prone upon the couch, shaken from head 
to foot by her tears, her dress and hair disheveled. 

“ The truth !" she affirmed brokenly. He now 
aro.se and stood for some moments looking down upon 
her in stern silence, his arms folded tightly across his 
breast, one foot pushed forward like a man who ad- 
vances to meet a challenge, his chin resting upon his 
bosom. 

“You lied to me then, Judith, that day when you 
said you wished to be good to me ?” His blue eyes 
burned with scornful wrath. 

“ I took no reckoning of my words. King, you con- 
strued them too seriously.” 

“ If I did not love you, Judith Kent,” he answered, 
bitterly, “ I could curse you. You see I offer a con- 
trast of loving, whom I cannot respect.” 

She put up her hands against her ears. “You ! 
John King ! You dare to upbraid me for being in- 
nocently guilty ?” 

“As paradoxical as your inconsistent sex are won’t 
to be,” was his sarcastic comment. “ Let that pass ; 
if you do not marry me from love, Judith, still I 
choose that you shall marry me just the same.” He 
began to pace the floor, literally flinging this short, 
sharp speech down upon the weeping girl as he ex- 
citedly passed her to and fro. 

“ I have so managed to compromise you, that there 
is no other honorable escape for you. By to-morrow 
morning it will be well known in theatrical circles, 
and so by the way of scandal reach the public ear 
that you have passed the night with me in this 
place.” 


)OttN KING, MANAGER. 


255 

I have the alternative of conscious innocence,” 
she replied, rising and looking at him reproachfully 
through her tears. “ I cannot be constrained against 
my will to marry you, King, and I will never do it.” 

He wheeled about in angry astonishment, “ What ? 
Would you run the gauntlet of all the goose quills 
that will be set to scribbling about you before to- 
morrow’s sun goes down ?” 

Once more a fierce light of passion and color leaped 
like a flame into his set, white face as he turned to- 
ward her, stretching out his arms. “ Give me one 
moment of real happiness, Judith, in this dreary 
world. To me the close, particular love of some good 
woman is so essential, it is Heaven to enjoy it, and 
Hell to be denied. I know how delicate a fabric is a 
woman’s reputation, my dear, I shall not allow vou to 
ruin yourself that way.” 

“ It is a strange way to show affection by heaping 
misery upon the beloved object, ’’she responded, 
matching his determination with scorn. 

“ I do not wish to heap misery upon you ; Judith, in 
spite of what you say to me, I know that you do love 
me, I have known it for a long time. See,” he went on 
playfully, “ I abdicate in your favor, no longer am I 
King and master, but subject and slave, rule me as 
you will, my sweet liege lady, except not to love you, 
that is impossible. I will serve you in any capacity 
except that of indifference or hate.” 

“ Then liberate me,” she demanded with the spirit 
of the actress coming into her face and action, as she 
pointed to the locked door. At that moment a clock 
in some part of the house struck eight ; at this re- 
minder of the passage of time and her obduracy, all 
the old dominant spirit returned. He turned almost 
fiercely upon her ; seizing both hands, he whirled her 
so suddenly about as to bring her to face him, startled 
and breathless. Before she could anticipate what he 


John king, manage^. 


256 

would do, he had raised her in his arms, carrying her 
across the room, once again seating her upon the 
couch. Release you, never by God ! I will ruin 
you soul and body first !” She gave a little sharp 
cry of distress as he spoke, and at that moment some 
one was heard ascending the stairs. 

“ Hush !” he commanded. “ If I thought you hated 
me, Judith, I would spare you ; or if you would give 
me your word of honor to bind yourself to marry me, 
I would release you now. You do not hate me, I 
know it, and the knowledge that you have loved me 
from the first has driven me after you with an un- 
spent force of passionate desire for eighteen months 
like a whipped dog. Perhaps I am mad, 1 think I am, 
but it is that sort of madness which must be appeased." 

White, trembling, with prayerful despair in her 
face, she looked up at his set lips and flashing eyes, 
feeling compelled by. the deadly fascination of his 
will ; still the steps continued to ascend the stairs, 
and as he held her forcibly upon the couch, he turned 
his frowning face to listen. At that moment a hand 
was laid upon the door. It was evident that the 
woman had returned with a companion and was 
about to enter the room. A loud and peremptory 
knock followed these sounds, while a man’s voice 
inquired : 

“ Is John King in this room ?" 

Judith, who recognized the tones of Savelli’s voice, 
threw herself forward with a shriek of joy, then 
shrank back upon the couch, where she lay like a 
crushed lily, unheeding the demand without. John 
King knelt beside her, his cheek pressed against her 
cold white face, as he cursed and implored in a 
breath : 

“Promise me, Judith ! and I will spare you, but 
even at this moment, late as it is, unless you promise 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 257 

me, I swear to you, I will not spare you even in 
appearance.” 

He was, as he said, driven mad with desperation. 
She was as a bird snared and crippled in the net of 
the fowler. She had neither the strength of body or 
spirit to any longer repel or answer him. The room 
was dark except for the fitful light of the fire, which 
now suddenly blazed up around the mulled log, with 
the last glow of expiring light. King rose, taking 
.some matches from a little safe on the mantel, he 
lighted one jet of the chandelier. The rapping still 
continued without, followed by more peremptory 
inquiries. 

“ Is John King here 

He paused in the centre of the floor with one hand 
pressed against his frowning brow, he glanced first 
at the door, and then at the senseless girl upon the 
couch. He walked softly across the polished floor to 
assure himself as to her exact condition. Had she 
fallen asleep from a complete collapse of nervous 
energy in her excitable temperament, or had the 
sharp strain of his passion broken all the tender 
strings that linked the woman's soul to her delicate 
body ? 

“ Promise ! promise !” he raved under his breath, 
and even as he did so the door was unlocked, thrown 
open, and Alessandro Savelli entered the room, where 
for a moment he stood dumfounded, gazing at the 
compromising situation of the girl. King sprang to 
his feet, pointing to the couch : 

“ She is mine, Savelli,” he said haughtily, “ she is 
mine, you have no business in this room. I never 
troubled myself about your intrigues with Miss 
Winter.” Without one word of reply the young actor 
walked deliberately across the room, and drawing off 
his glove dealt King a stinging blow in the face. 

J express my belief in your dishonor, and in this 


258 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


girl’s innocence, John King, according to the custom 
of the brave men of my country, and I am willing to 
vindicate the statement I have made by either my 
blood or yours.” 

A rapid change was observable in King’s features, 
as he bowed before Alessandro with sardonic polite- 
ness. I am not angry, Sandro,” he said, “ I have not 
thought of so simple a solution of my troubles, God 
grant that it may be my blood ; women have ruined 
me.” 

With this statement he nonchalantly crossed the 
hall, and taking from the wall a pair of swords he 
passed them to Savelli, coolly remarking as he did so, 
“ They are the pair we practised with in Italy.” 
Savelli examined them a moment, and returned one 
to King’s hand without deigning a reply, whereupon 
they stepped into the deserted garden, to take their 
position as deadly enemies, who had so long been in- 
timate friends. The moon looked peacefully down 
from the serene star-bespangled blue, the flowers 
breathed their fragrance to the velvet dusk of the 
evening air, and there was a soft lisping rustle among 
the leaves above and around them in the thick gar- 
den foliage. 

King's servant, wholly confused, rushed from the 
couch to the window and from the window returned 
to the couch again, uncertain as to what all this 
strange behavior might signify. Moaning and weep- 
ing, she raised Judith, chafing her hands and forcing 
a few mouthfuls of wine between her lips, while she 
passionately implored her to speak, and to arouse 
herself to some conscious action. She kept pouring 
the tragic statements into the insensible ears of the 
girl. “ I do not know what they are doing, but I be- 
lieve they be fighting with them long knives. Ah, 
my God ! I shall be in the police court for their 
doings, to-morrow," With this fear possessing her 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


259 


mind she would run back to the window, pressing 
her face to the glass, as huddled among the plants 
she strained her gaze through the dusky pane in 
order to get a glimpse of the terrible scene with- 
out. 

All at once feeling appeared to desert King ; he 
was masterly, pale, cold, mechanical, all eyes and 
nerves of steel. Yet he did not seek to attack the 
man before him, but to defend himself from an ex- 
perienced swordsman. As they each stood with one 
foot pushed forward and their shoulders braced back 
squarely, their features expressive of cruel determin- 
ation, perhaps King hoped that a little prick from 
Alessandro’s sword would satisfy his honor and cool 
his temper ; but unluckily, the young actor’s foot 
slipped upon a rolling pebble in such a way as to 
throw him upon his adversary’s blade. As the sword 
entered his chest, King, with a cry of horror, dropped 
his weapon and threw his arms about the tottering 
figure of Alessandro. 

“ My God, Sandro ! what have I done ?” 

“ It is all up, old boy,” said the young actor, sitting 
down half fainting upon the balcony steps. “We 
both loved her and have both lost.” 

King hastened to bind up the wound and to support 
the heavy figure of the young actor in his arms as he 
guided him into the house and lay him upon his own 
bed. As he bent over the half fainting man he said 
again : “ My God, Sandro ! what a night this is and 
what a morning !” 

“ You had better leave the country, King; if I die it 
will be bad work for you both. Quick, I have not 
much strength.” 

“ Sandro, can you forgive me ? I am a very un- 
happy man.” The dying actor looked into the white, 
agonized countenance of his former friend. 

For my own injuries, but not for hers,” he replied, 


26 o 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


and closed his eyes. Bidding Hannah do for him 
what she could, King hurried from the house, rushed 
to the stables, woke the .sleeping groom, got a horse 
saddled, leaped upon it, and rode madly to the nearest 
physician. 

“ Do not stop one moment !” he said. “ Here, take 
my horse, and ride back for your life to Maple Ter- 
races. Alessandro Savelli lays at my house wounded 
and perhaps dying. I will follow on foot.” The phy- 
sician upon hearing the name of his distinguished 
patient hastened to obey, while John King pursued 
the opposite direction. In the solemn urgency of the 
present moment he felt bewildered, and had to keep 
a sort of clutching remembrance of the scene he had 
left behind him. He saw no possible way to avoid 
arrest, unless he could disguise himself and fly the 
country. He had a reckless and brave contempt of 
flying from anything, but then it was not a pleasant 
prospect, that of being arraigned in the common 
courts, where thousands would flock to stare at him. 
He returned to New York and his room at the hotel, 
where he commenced to pace the floor, struggling to 
calmly overlook the alarming situation in which he 
was placed. Most men in King’s position would have 
broken down completely, but he neither wept nor 
raved. Perjured, abandoned, ambition blasted, genius 
wasted, “ I have alienated myself,” he thought, “ from 
the tenderest woman heart that ever beat ; I have 
murdered my noblest friend.” Life seemed in this 
gloomy hour of retrospection like a continually widen- 
ing series of revolutions— increasing in intensity and 
velocity with each year’s experience. He was giddy 
with the whirl of meaningless things, meaningless to 
him only because he had not hitherto paused to con- 
sider his accountability or proper relation to events, 
nor to define aught that touched his impressions, ex- 
cept by the clutch of selfish desire. At last’ the 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


261 

majesty of the eternal spoke through tha mother’s 
blood, when his passions, struck by disaster, retiring 
their cowarding impulse, left reason and conscience 
in review of the barren fields of defeat to convict him 
of wilful self-ruin. 

He threw a few handkerchiefs and a change of linen 
into a hand satchel, after which donning his coat and 
hat, he took a car down town and set out on the mid- 
night train for his old home at H , Before that 

thing happened which seemed so imminent and yet 
so far away, he wished once more to look upon his 
father’s and mother’s grave. He arrived the next 
day about one o’clock. It was a mile through the 
pleasant village, with its church upon the low step 
of one of the rising mountains over which he would 
have to walk to his father’s house. He strolled along 
the pleasant village street beneath the line of elms 
that decorated each side of it. The open country 
stretched up in a series of rising hills, granite capped 
or wood crowned to the snowy peaks of the white 
mountains. The green fields and pastures surround- 
ing the modest white cottages were filled with fruit 
trees, whose pink blossoms, scattered over the plushy 
green of the earth’s new spring carpet, were caught 
by the stirring and capricious airs of May, to be 
whirled like a discarded bridal veil to his very feet by 
the dusty roadside. The breath of all the healthful, 
blooming beauty of the earth, was exhaled on the in- 
vigorating air, beating upon the pale, moist brow, and 
dry lips of the sick man. Suddenly from a quiet side 
street a funeral possession came slowly forth, to wend 
its way up the hill before him. The hearse and one 
carriage, were followed by many people on foot, who 
appeared to issue forth trom every doorway that he 
passed. Simultaneously with the appearance of this 
solemn pantomime of sorrow was heard the tolling of 
the bell. He shivered, as he stepped mechanically 


262 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


iuto the line of people entering the church door. He 
felt himself more related to that which laid cold and 
still in its coffin, than to the smiling sweetness of life, 
and hope, and beauty, in the outer world. The ser- 
vice had commenced as he dropped wearily into a 
seat near the door. A woman was being eulogized 
for those graces of mind and heart which are the 
practical possessions of an exemplary Christianity. 
As he sat listening, with pain in his breast and con- 
fusion in his head, faint and overcome by the impres- 
sions of the scene and the hour, he buried his face in 
his hands, his reeling senses seemed to stagger out of 
his cold body, and leave it a lonely case upon which 
he could gaze as a thing separate from himself. At 
length two mourners had entered their single carriage 
in its attendance upon the hearse, and the audience 
were respectfully requested to look upon the dead. 
Still without any particular impetus of his worn will 
he followed, mechanically approaching that last cra- 
dle in which humanity is rocked to eternal sleep, or 
ushered into everlasting glory, where it sat embow- 
ered in ascension lilies at the foot of the chancel. As 
his eyes came to rest upon the figure in the casket, he 
started back with a cry of astonishment ; then bent 
eagerly forward, trembling like an aspen, horrified, 
fascinated. He stared wildly dowm upon the calm, 
beautiful repose of the dead face of his cousin, Alice 
Beecham. Once more he started back ; clasping his 
hands to his head, he looked appealingly into the face 
of the rector standing upon the chancel steps. In re- 
sponse to the awful expression of misery stamped like 
a mark of death upon the strong young face, the rec- 
tor came gently forward, speaking slowly. “ His 
mercy is without end, and his love is everlasting,” he 
said. 

It was evident the tragic mourner he addressed did 
not hear him. Thick clouds were about him, and 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


263 


darkness made his pavilion. Upon that cold, still 
bosom whose passion he had made responsible for his 
own madness, lay the black cross stamped with its 
shining gold letters I. H. S. 

“ I have suffered.” 

He did not see the awe struck and wondering faces 
of strangers grouped about him ; the proud, cold 
masterful man heard nothing, knew nothing, but the 
crowning anguish as he threw himself with a despair- 
ing cry across the dead body of his cousin. 

“ Oh Alice ! Alice ! it is dark,” he sobbed, “ we 
have erred and strayed from thy ways.” 

The great tempest which racked his body suddenly 
subsided, and the living man stretched across the 
coffin lay so strangely still the rector ventured to 
touch him gently upon the shoulder. As he did so 
the body of the man slipped down and lay out 
stretched at the foot of the chancel steps. 

Cries of horror, tremblings of fear and distress, and 
the labor of the sympathetic hands of strangers could 
not restore ever again light and warmth to the strong 
managing brow, the flashing eyes, and the stern white 
face. John King was dead. 

Human life at the greatest and best is but a way- 
ward child. Why should we see a vindictive applica- 
tion of God’s wrath in the suffering which accrues 
through misdirected ways. The sharpest judgment 
that can fall upon any soul is that self-conviction 
which leads it to recognize an all pervading good in 
the universe, an all pervading love, an all pervading 
harmony that has been violated in our own blind ex- 
istence. In that moment we have grown lucid, the 
light penetrates the shadows, our lives become spirit- 
ualized and rise toward the infinite perfection we 
have been called to recognize by the gorrectcd 
methods of suffering. 

Let us leave John King with his God, 


264 


JOHN KING, MANAGER. 


' It is morning at New Rochelle ; it seems to the 
interesting convalescent, who lies- lazily swaying in a 
hammock beneath the garden trees, it is morning in 
the whole world, Madame De Sequeria is in attend- 
ance upon one side with a fan, and our lady Judith 
upon the other with a book ; not the less interesting 
to him, the adored invalid, is the picturesque girl at 
his side because her face is paler and sadder than he 
has ever seen it before. Her life has known a sorrow, 
poor child, which has invested her with a sacred 
charm in the eyes of her romantic lover. She reads 
to him in a clear, sweet voice, with a tremulous 
quality in her tone that pleases his fastidious ear. 
She sits in the midst of singing birds and fluttering 
leaves, while the air is full of the fragrance of the 
garden flowers ; she is a poem and a picture, upon 
which his eyes rest in longing, loving radiance, and 
to which she occasionally responds by a half tender 
and pathetic glance. Her bright hair dropping in 
shining waves about her face is flecked with the sun 
shot through the shadow of the moving leaves. 
To-morrow they will sail home across the sea to that 
wonderful Italian villa set among the lemon trees. 
Savelli will never stand before an audience again. 
His defence of a woman’s honor has cost him his life’s 
great ambition ; he is condemned to seclusion, and 
the world has lost one of its brightest lights. Per- 
haps it is a small reward for all this costly sacri- 
fice if his gentle nurse shall give him a life attend- 
ance, but he is more than satisfied. 


THE END. 


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